Seeds of Reflection

Inspiration can come at any time. Upon awakening. Or falling asleep. Driving.

But can I catch it? If I grab a notebook it may stop. The inspiration, or good sleep. Do I dictate to Marily, or scribble notes on my arm -- one eye on the road?



While greeting at the temple door this morning, it started. It could have looked like I was sneaking notes on the 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.



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Observe,
Process lightly.
Preserve

We write.
the Book.
of Lives.

===



Driving west to Waconia--it is a vibrant day. Only a rare and dirty snow drift persists for a few more days at most. Till it snows again. It could, here 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 others still unseen
in trees vertically striped
and horizontal by the light
winter leaves a lot of life
yet to show


.