We live for the weekends! Last Saturday our jobs weren’t calling. Our schedule was ours to create. So, our day began with an early morning walk where the temperature was below 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Cold and clear. Donned with beanies, warm coats, and gloves, we walked around the neighborhood, enjoying the show of the sky changing colors. And then the words below came to mind…
The sun slowly opens
its sleepy eyes
The neighborhood still breathes
soft breaths
Not a soul
Not a sound
We own this moment
This moment is ours
Tranquility flows through our veins
We exhale gratitude
Another miracle reveals itself
in the creation
of a new dawn
Next, we drove to a local ecological sanctuary filled with numerous trails, so hand in hand, we followed them, enjoying nature’s fabulous entertainment and taking pics along the way. The day was beautiful, sunny and cold, but absolutely glorious!
The rest of the day was filled with relaxation, motorcycle rides, 5:00 o’clock wine-ing, then Saturday night at the movies. Retirement is nearing, but until then, we welcome the welcoming weekends!
Hope you enjoyed and I wish you a great week and weekend ahead! ❤️
A few days ago, I was inspired byMarina’s post:https://marinakanavaki.com/2022/11/03/the-clouds-sometimes/. She is a dear, dear friend and a fabulous painter, photographer, and musician. And we share the same love of clouds, or truthfully, any artwork the sky chooses to display. So much that we agree we can never have too many photos! If you don’t know Marina, I hope you’ll pay her beautiful site a visit. So, no poetry or story today, just photos from a morning walk – a sky that took my breath away…
Hope you enjoyed and I wish you a marvelous Monday!
I’ve never participated in a poetry reading before. Even though I’ve sung in front of audiences in my youth, the thought of sharing my original poetry in person immediately starts the internal flapping of butterfly wings. Sharing behind a screen isn’t so scary.
Well, a friend of mine heard of a local poetry night taking place last week, so she encouraged me to sign up. Her exact words, “You should do it!” So I did, but not without jumpy nerves.
There were 27 poets, different ages, even some young voices which was fabulous. I prayed that I wouldn’t be the last reader because we all know the effects of anticipation. Instead, I was second to read, which was a little nerve-racking in itself, but at least it was over fast. According to my friend, I did great. And even in my mind, I thought I had done well, maybe not stellar, but well enough for the first time. I didn’t trip over any words. I didn’t sneeze or fall into a coughing fit. I stayed focused, and afterwards, I received some “Beautifuls”, which I believe is music to any artist’s ears.
Irregardless, I’m glad I finally did this, another box checked off the list. Listening to the others read their original poems or poems written by another author was also wonderful. This event turned out to be an enlightening experience.
Now, for the sake of trying something fun and different, I’m sharing an audio of the poem I read that I recently recorded. I’ve posted “Castanets” before, but I’ve made small revisions since then.
I also can’t help wonder if most people think their voices sound strange when they hear them recorded. I know I do. Nonetheless, here goes…
Castanets
Stepping outside, I stroll down the quiet road with my lab on my left, his gait as graceful as a galloping horse in slow motion. Squirrels raise their sleepy heads because of the early hour. The sky appears to be coal black, but when I turn the corner, watermelon pinks, corals, and lemon yellows take center stage. My camera doesn’t do justice. Then I recall my son saying, “Enjoy the moment.” I slip that device back in my pocket. To my right, salmon-colored roses flaunt their fragrance and I am intoxicated. Passing orange poppies, their stems flutter with excitement, eager for the sun’s ascent, and in the distance, silence sings its serene ballad. As the tempo of our pace speeds up, a breeze joins us, and the leaves on the trees lining the lane sway in rhythm as though dancing a waltz. Jowls flap, he smiles with brown nose set in overdrive. The sun’s gentle touch adds a glimmer to his copper coat. I pause, bending down to his level, fingers stroke shiny, silky fur, his eyes close, contented from contact. When we move again, his nails on the asphalt mimic the clicking of two sets of castanets, and in seconds, I realize these observations are what life is all about… seeing…feeling…smelling…listening… being.