Healdsburg

Thirty-three years to celebrate,
we cruise up the coast
passing lush green hills of January,
gripping the wheel from wind’s thrust.

The plaza pulls us in with its charm,
shops shimmer in their zeal for patrons,
the sun blazes, temperature warm,
windows entice with appealing apparel.

“You look like I need a drink of wine,”
words on a hand towel with pizzazz.
“With every glass of wine comes wisdom,”
a neighboring towel claims to add.

Shelves stocked with crafts, so cheery,
persuading to purchase without effort.
This store carries us to Rose Apothecary.
Where are David and Patrick?

Arches and patios show off twinkle lights
for when the moon shines her splendor.
We feast on pulled pork and slaw,
Chardonnay and Pliny the Elder.

Laughter’s in the air, picnics on blankets,
a man strums and sings like Paul Simon.
A man with a backpack eyes the banquets,
a dog licks his chops with a plan.

Great eats and drinks, and fun souvenirs,
loose cash spent, plastic card dented,
another toast for three more decades,
moments to share, a life so splendid.

Photo: Anniversary flowers ❤️

A Blooming Conundrum

sunlight fashions smiles
lifting faces to the blue
they sense springtime has
sidled up next to autumn
craving notoriety

rainfall quenches thirst
nourishment long awaited
wilted leaves revive

bright petals unfold
shivering with elation
winter watches with
concern as the months of spring
have seemingly reappeared

Lauren Scott (c) 2021
Photos from our yard with
thoughts from November.





If the Universe Would Share

Look to the galaxy, My Love.
The blue luminous star
I desire to be yours.
If the universe would share,
I’d pull the shimmering beauty
from the constellations
and place it in the palm
of your hands
next to my beating heart.
I wish we could sit upon
a slow-moving cloud,
dangling our legs
into freedom.
Our eyes would show
the emotion in our hearts.
Lips would touch, tenderly,
then with hunger
reeling through our veins
like magnetic energy.
We’d fall into
pleasant intoxication,
watching moonbeams
pierce our private night sky.

Lauren Scott (c) 2021

More Than Coffee – by Lauren Scott

Resa at Graffiti Lux Art & More surprised me with this elegant and gracious review of my book, More than Coffee. I am so happy she enjoyed my book to a level that would spark such a beautiful reaction. Another reason for me to be grateful!
For those of you who don’t know Resa, she is a photographer who features stunning Street Art of other cities around the globe through travels and guest contributors. Taking these photos is a passion of hers that brings immense joy. Each work of graffiti art or mural evokes thoughts in her, and these thoughts are reflected in the titles of her blog posts. I encourage you to pay her a visit! Thanks again, Resa! xo

Resa's avatarGraffiti Lux Art & More

As a person who enjoys poetry and coffee, the decision to read Lauren’s well written book was a no-brainer. As a matter of fact, I languished over every poem and bit of prose. For 33 mornings, I read one piece with my coffee.

Each day’s reading brought me warm thoughts, stirred feelings and created a desire to be creative. What a great and positive way to start the day.

In this intimate look at her and  her family, nature plays a huge part in stirring memories of irreplaceable experiences, both uplifting and occasionally heartbreaking. All emotions are expressed beautifully in positive light.

I couldn’t resist picking my favourite poem.

This poem is an experience I share with Lauren. She could have been writing about me and my mom. I am deeply moved.

There is no copy and paste from the ebook. I wrote this out, and proofed it many times…

View original post 314 more words

Castanets

I remember yesterday when I stepped outside,
strolling down the undisturbed road
with my dog on my left, his gait as graceful
as a galloping horse in slow motion.
Maybe the squirrels raised their
sleepy heads because of the early hour.
The sky appeared to be coal black,
but when I turned the corner, watermelon pinks,
corals, and lemon yellows took center stage.
My camera did not deliver.
Then I thought of my son
who often says, “Enjoy the moment.”
I slipped that device back in my pocket.
Passing the orange poppies, I imagined
their stems fluttered with excitement,
eager for the sun’s ascent, and in the distance,
silence sang its serene ballad.
As the tempo of our pace sped up,
a breeze joined us,
and the leaves on the trees lining the lane
swayed in rhythm as though dancing a waltz.
Jowls flapped, he smiled with brown nose
set in overdrive. The sun’s gentle touch
added a glimmer to his copper coat.
There was a moment when I paused,
bending down to his level,
fingers stroking shiny, silky fur,
his eyes closed, contented from contact.
When we moved again, his nails on the asphalt
mimicked the clicking of castanets,
and in that second, I realized these observations
on this early morning are what life is all about…
the seeing…touching…smelling…listening…
the being.

Lauren Scott (c) 2021

Treasuring Poetry – Meet poet, Lauren Scott, and a review

I am honored to be a guest on Robbie Cheadle’s blog, Writing to be Read, and to have received such a beautiful review of my book, More than Coffee…

robbiesinspiration's avatarWriting to be Read

Today, I am delighted to introduce poet and blogger, Lauren Scott. I met Lauren recently through another blogging friend and I am delighted by her beautiful poetry and posts about hiking adventures with her husband.

Take it away, Lauren.

Which of your own poems is your favorite?

I narrowed it down to two favorites: “Simple Existence” and “To My Babies.”

Simple Existence

I stare at this page, milk white as the

blanketed ground in winter’s staging.

Where are the syllables?

***

I fear they have flown to faraway places,

across desert dunes and boundless oceans

and might not return so that I may tell him

(again) how irreplaceable he is.

***

Instead, I’ll touch his lips with mine

and steady myself in the arms of a man

who is satisfied with my simple existence.

To My Babies

You are a new bloom in our family garden,

too little to…

View original post 1,257 more words

The Smell of Sorrow

Sometimes, we hold plans
with such great importance
that when they become derailed,
our mindsets are not as tough
as we assume,
no, not as tough as spider silk –
they spiral into grottos of gloom
where we keep company
with a suitcase of insecurity.

Indulging in comfort that doesn’t
judge or bicker occurs effortlessly.
The smell of sorrow is overwhelming.

But despite the absence of light,
the sunrise slowly unfolds,
brushstrokes of vivid oranges
illuminate the sky
like a painter brightens a new canvas,
and the experience feels feather-light
as though a burden is lifted.

Our fascination is stirred once again
by a hummingbird’s ability to fly
forward and backwards, sideways,
and even upside down. We hear the
sparrows singing their tales,
and bees buzzing in jubilation.

Sensing the spiritual presence of hope,
we exhale with relief, and we are optimistic
for an extended stay.

Lauren Scott (c) 2021

Photo: sunrise from an early-morning walk

October’s Miracle

I forgot how the sound of rain could be soothing
like the calm of a child’s lullaby.
I heard my lantana sing “Hallelujah!” as the soil exhaled,
the thirst for relief felt longer than eternity.
Silk-thread drizzles dusted rooftops on the street
along with the brown brittle hills with flowing grace.
The fascination of puddles slipped my mind,
the childlike sense of play from a hop and a splash.
And who would think the sight of cocoa-brown mud
could be so entertaining in all its messiness!
Would you believe if I said the flowers smiled at me?
And their leaves offered a gentle wave?
Observing from my slightly opened window,
I caught a grateful sigh from the soaked earth,
and I enjoyed listening to the roots laugh in delight.

Lauren Scott (c) 2021