funny how

it’s funny how a song sinks into you and there it is and you can only let it be there. do you pour yourself into it. or does it do the pouring. I don’t know. and maybe it doesn’t matter after all. perhaps in that moment it’s an invisible exchange of sorts that simply needs to be.

listening to a lovely song…

Advertisements

7 Days, 7 Photos Challenge – Day 7

I was challenged by Ultimatetravel – Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.

Please know that if I challenge you it’s my way of saying you have a lovely site and I hope people will visit you.

Today I nominate Yocolector

fly

Who was there

Who knew

First four

Next two

Then just

you

a little y

I’ll never

Let you be

A capital Y

Not to me

Such wrong

Such unforgivable song

you

Will fade

At the edges of time

While I

Capital I

I

Will

Fly

rare jungle birds and blue satin ribbons 


No matter who you are, no matter how much or how little you think you have…you always have something to give…


The hunter moon came brilliantly full last evening. I could have laid beneath it and watched it all night long…slowly wandering the starry sky. Just like another full moon at another beginning so long ago…


The air hangs heavy for November. Whatever that means. I had hoped that it would be chilly this morning. It’s not. There is a hint of breeze that’s awfully nice though. In the heaviness lingers a fresh scent. I cannot decide what it is exactly. Perhaps it is simply the deep filling breath before a new adventure. 


My constant companions let me sit for five whole minutes on the pier! I even got to swing my feet as we watched the heron march slowly along the edges of the water hunting his breakfast. 


Industrious beetles fill the tall grass. I’m not sure if they’re preparing for winter. Or, if that is just their way. They make me feel rather guilty for all that I’m not getting done. 


Life isn’t all about doing though. Sometimes it’s just about being.    


My footsteps are light. My fingers dance in the air before me to the cello song. Above the music I hear my elusive jungle bird. I pause beneath the trees to listen to him instead of the music. I only catch a glimpse as he swoops from tree to tree so high overhead. He’s really a pileated woodpecker. But don’t tell him that.  


In his heart he knows who he really is…a rare jungle bird whose treetop song finds me on the forest floor… I imagine that his plumage is quite brilliant. He never comes close enough for me to find out for sure. I assume the possibility of him. But, no matter how still and quietly I wait… he does not show himself. Leaving me to wonder – does he even exist. 


His passionate song suggests that…yes…he does. A gift, delivered by the wind, trailing delicate satin ribbons that wave gently to all that is left behind, until…it comes to rest within me. 


Life is filled with the sweet gifts of everyday. 



Miss Lacey is amazing at what she does. I wish that her skills were unnecessary. But, for those who need her, she is a great blessing. Miss Jordan has a warm spirit and a contagious smile. She brightens any day with welcome. 


I am reminded of the power of words. “No” is as good a word as “Yes”. Perhaps especially so when said for someone you love who cannot say it for themselves. No thank you, we’ll pass on that procedure. Then for him to find the one small word he was searching so hard for… “tenors”. Way to go Dad! A tiny triumph never seemed so large. So, you and I spent a morning together serenaded by beautiful music of your own choosing. 


A gift of words freely given. No why or how or wherefore. Just thoughts scribbled on a page or typed haphazardly onto a screen. And given away… how amazed I am at the way in which inspiration finds one. An image or a song or a moment in time… Those things that decide they will stay after all and make a home in your thoughts.  


David. I didn’t know David a few weeks ago. He is new in my world and there is no knowing when I will see him. David has no home. He comes to the same protected place day after day. Then just as suddenly as he arrived … he disappears … for a while. I wonder where he goes at those times and hope that he is safe. David seems haunted by something from another time. He is gentle all the same. Though his needs are many, he is happy to share a kind word and a smile.  

Stories! Stories for the smallest ones. They do not live in affluence. Some are in CPS (child protective services). But you would never know. Their sweet faces are almost more joy than I can take! Can we sing the teapot song?! And off we go! So many little teapots…all steamed up…pouring and shouting! We can be heard all the way down to the office! 

Lunch! Right in the middle of the day! Of course that’s where it belongs. But, I will admit I’m positively awful at making myself stop for it. I enjoyed a lazy lunch that stretched well into the afternoon. Just me and the good company I shared on a covered porch. Except for that rusty crawfish…the way he kept staring. You’d think he had never seen anyone eat lunch before. 


Flamingos! Not the iridescent pink bird, although he’s quite nice as well. Flamingos is a precious second hand boutique that benefits the ETCC. Ms. G will see to it that lovely new unmentionables are delivered to the unknown woman who has need of them. Ms. G serves the ladies of the East Texas Crisis Center as a protective mother hen. I’m sorry that any community needs a crisis center. But for those who have need of it I’m grateful that it’s there.  



Gifts galore in all shapes and sizes! nothing to wrap…nothing to put away…nothing to break… Only beautiful moments shared…forever tied in  my heart with blue satin ribbons waving gently in the breeze.  

Some days I am 8 years old, dizzy with the joy of life. Everything is so shiny and brand new. My eyes leap in wonder at cloud feathers and silly dogs and tiny hop toads! What wonders surround me all the time!


Some days I am more ancient than the great pyramids…not of body…but of soul. That I have lived 8,000 years and continue on. As though the struggles of every age lie within me. A gentle place for all the weary of the world to come to rest. 


I like the feel of both. The fresh and the forever. In between them are the middle years, the busy ones. Even in those… A part of you must always be eight. A part of you must always be older than time. No one is ever a single number, a single moment in space…

Each of you is a rare and elusive jungle bird.  Each of you swoops from tree to tree carried by the wind.  Each of you wears brilliant plumage.  Each of you has the sweet gift of a song…


You are a timeless soul filled with sweet embrace. You…each and every one of you have something to give, and you touch far more people than you will ever know.