Satisfying Curiosity’s Needs

At a particular moment in time,

When Earth is turned in a way that I find

The sun shining on Earth’s opposite side—

Snapping photos is still something I try.

I’ll find a flower and just enough light

So that when I point and shoot in the night

Or just after dusk, or just before dawn,

The camera can still be focused on

A petal or pistil—stamen or stem.

When I look at the photo I took, then

I sometimes see an ethereal shot—  

Can barely see it’s a flower—or not.

A little substance and a faint outline

And black background on the phone screen of mine.

Or petals with light from the other side

Looking like water colors improvised.

Or light catching petals from just one side

So the opposite petals still can hide.

None of the flowers seem quite what they are

But it’s also true that none is too far

From reality, as I look upon

How light illuminates life before dawn,

Or in dark after dusk or at midnight

Life emerges from any amount of light.

Even when the light begins very low

Letting any in allows life to grow.

So, I play with changing amounts of light

Seeing impacts on what I sense in life.

Appreciating changing appearance.

As light varies without interference.

I follow the light seeing where it leads

Satisfying curiosity’s needs.

Sun, Clouds, Love

Deep pink at the horizon,

      Burnt orange above,

That one pointed out,

                  More of a peach color

                  In the next layer in the sky,

And finally darker colors

High in the sky

                              As we run along the harbor

        Early on a cool but not cold

                              Mid-fall morning. 

As the sun comes up

And the air warms,

      The colors turn

      To shades of baby blue

                Streaked across the sky,

As another observed.

Our conversation was as warm

As the rising sun

      And as varied

As the colors across the sky.

And throughout the morning

      There were wispy clouds,

      As the third noticed.

Early on, small clouds on the horizon

Like the bodies of little bugs

With many legs under them.

Later, spanning the entire sky.

Light and airy clouds,

Not bringing rain,

But making art in the sky.

Out conversation was light

And carried the art of life

Like the clouds.

A beautiful morning

For beautiful friendships

And wonderful conversation

About our many colored

Sometimes wispy lives.

But one thing is not wispy

But serious as all get out—

How we treat friends and family

With the love like the sun and clouds show

For life on the earth.

A Racing Meaning Poem

Being in the Presence of the Best

There can be something

That is the best

About every race—

Even if it is not

The time.

Of course,

Usually when runners

Speak of, “the best,”

They mean time.

But if a runner

Runs enough races,

It is impossible

To always

Run faster.

And even with a race

That is planned for months

With meticulously scheduled

Workouts,

Sometimes things don’t work. 

For some races,

I can see it weeks in advance.

Weather was bad.

Workouts were missed.

Injuries.
Life gets in the way.

For other races,

It is clear that morning.

Bad night’s rest.

Something eaten didn’t sit right.

Too hot.

And sometimes it is during the race

That it becomes clear

That it will not be the fastest.

But it doesn’t mean

That there can’t be something

That is the best.

And if I pick out

What I think

Might be best

In advance,

And think about

Being in the presence of the best,

Then the race can still be one

To remember.

Scenery.

Most constant pace—

Even if not the fastest.

Meeting other runners.

Helping someone

Who would otherwise

Be behind me,

By encouraging them

As they run

Alongside me—

Or ahead of me.

Or maybe smiling more.

Or maybe just

Taking the time

To take in the sights

And sounds

And smells

Of the race.

Doing this will ensure

That the race will be

More than just

A few random bytes

With a name, date, and time

In my electronic device.

It will be a story

I can someday share
With my children’s children.

Partners

Tonight's creativity is a little poem about partners.  See if you can figure out what kind of partners.  Altough frequent readers won't be surprised.  It was just fun to play with an idea.

May There Be Words

May There Be Words

Word are powerful things.

There are times when I have used them to hurt.

The volume.

The tone.

The meaning.

And when they hurt someone else they ultimately hurt me too.

Emotionally and spiritually—and perhaps ultimately physically

As hurt is never something I look back on

And feel good about.

But most of the time I use them for positivity.

Describing.

Presenting.

Teaching.

Talking about my passions.

Seeking meaning.

Longing.

Cheering on.

Cheering up.

Thanking.

Wishing.

Loving.

Healing myself.

Praying for healing for others.

Inspiring.

For some of us words come as easy as does

Music

Or dancing

Or visual art

Or other forms of expression do for others.

But for me it is words.

Always words.

Written words are easier than spoken words.

But both come.

Having the words come is a blessing.

Continuing to have the words come easily

Is an answer to my prayers for

Clarity and expression.

Praying that words will come for others does not guarantee they will.

But I know there are friends who need words

In their lives

Right now.

I pray they find them.

And that they fall on receptive ears.