Seeds in Reflection

Inspiration can come at anytime. Upon awakening. Or falling asleep. Driving.



But can I catch it? Reaching for a notepad -- it may stop. The inspiration. Or the sleep. Do I dictate to Marily, or scribble notes on my arm?



This morning while greeting people at the temple door, it started. It might look like I was taking notes on latecomers. But . . . Well maybe.



Smiles on time step sprightly

Joy in words and girth

Later meek and lightly

Walks on soft-shoe lace

Then the campers follow

Face shades of red, sweat and tears

Comes the venue to me

Eat, love and pray.



------------



Observe.

Process lightly.

Preserve.



We write.

the Book .

of Lives.



While living.



===



Driving west to Waconia, it is a vibrant day. A rare and dirty snowdrift persists a few more days at most. Though it could snow again any day in Minnesota. Sun catches a foilage-bare woodlot this early Spring day. Leaf-tan and autumn tones pad their feet.



Shades of gray

rodent and reptile

and other still unseen

in trees verticallyy striped

and horizontal by the light

winter leaves a lot of life

yet to show



.