in the morning air
humanity is silent
I hear the birds sing
July is marching past. August approaches quickly. I doubt I’ll be ready, but the universe doesn’t care. Always forward motion, I do my best to prepare.
poetry, prose, and photography

These peaceful moments
Walking in my neighborhood
Sunlight upon clouds

gossamer tendrils
eight legs and eyes looking out
dew drop jewels capture
an ocean of sound
boldly starting the day
the sky remains dark
Pre-dawn tones, birds and insects chatter, apart yet together. Robins, crickets, then crows: acoustic motion across my consciousness.
Saturday morning, just a few more days left of June. Many types of chronological motion, too, greying my hair. Speaking to me of near ancient memories. Ancient, at least, in terms of humanity, of human life-spans.