Electric light had nothing over the full moon of a sweet midwest September night. All life illuminated in a soft presence. As if time could not possibly be wasted, because it stood still, face to face with grace. nmd.
For yesterday And all dog days in the morning night and afternoon To all the dogs that i have lived with or only met I am grateful for the warm and loving pet
Travel always takes you home. And so does reading. If you want to write a poem, and don’t know where to start, you can start with ideas from many places. Let’s say, quotes. “I have found that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel… Read More Travel the word
Flying by Sarah Arvio One said to me tonight or was it day or was it the passage between the two, “It’s hard to remember, crossing time zones, the structure of the hours you left behind. Are they sleeping or are they eating sweets, and are they wanting me to phone them now?” “In the… Read More The Travel Poem
why don’t i go to the desert walk amongst red rocks and cactus their arms holding up the blue blue sky arid high clear dry lower my body into a pool of water stroking floating reflection put on white cotton t’s and cut-offs
This is the first poster that I have made that I am grouping under the label of “acts of kindness” to promote small acts. Small acts, I have been told, can produce what is called a ripple effect in which the small acts spreads and effects other’s thoughts and actions. I have seen enough of… Read More tip your server
We don’t need to try so hard at producing something that is special. Most production has special as a surprise that can not be planned.
When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us. Alexander Graham Bell There are shut doors barred doors, open, cracked, and screen doors. Doors with windows, some are beaded curtains. There are… Read More door to door
blue alley photo by n.m.davis there once was an alley lined in blue at the end was a forest that we loved to walk through
I am now sixty-two. And time really does seem to go faster as I age. Only because we get closer to seeing the end rather than the beginning of our life here. The target looks bigger and bigger as we fly through space hurtling toward it. As I hang onto my child heart, I also… Read More The Red Sun