Whispers on a wind

Voices come on winds across a sea

Like the soft twinkling bells,

Reassuring on stormy swells

As waters lap away tightened shores,

Harmony smoothes

The tormented soul.

Darkened skies of nights lament

Into the wilderness emotion spent

As eyes grow tired on empty shores

And music fills the chamber of soul.

I watch the skies wash away the light,

Like fading laundry beneath Summer’s heat

That rises onto a blank slate sheet,

Waiting to be carried away.

I think of souls lost in this world,

Feel each word that creeps deep beneath the skin,

And sweeping the dust away,

Clean all over again,

The work is done,

The night has come

And darkness descends into the mind

Ready to be rinsed in the dreams of night

Free of thought,

Emptied of substance

At peace on a feather down

Run aground like a wayward shell,

tossed about in sea foam spray and then

Drifting softly away,

What remains of the day, 

nothing lingering, 

Just a fading memory.

After a beautiful time spent today in the salty ocean water, relaxed, calm, happy and thankful for each one of you reading, each blessing I’ve been given, as the bells sing softly, I bid you peace, love and a heartfelt goodnight. Love to all, Kim

The magic banana

There is a tree that sits alone at the edge of the yard. It is quite tall and has large bright leaves that shade a soul on the hottest day. Once in awhile, this tree gives off magical bananas. Now these bananas aren’t edible, or at least I wouldn’t try it but what starts out as a strange banana shaped pod, growing here and there with no particular nor fashionable reason why, they just pop out where they want I suppose.

One day a long green unripe banana, then seemingly overnight the magic happens. The banana opens up and long firework looking tendrils pop out. I like to call them magic bananas because they only live a few days, turn brown and then fall to the earth. Their beauty is magical, just to look up and see the happy spectacle, a peeled banana bursting with joy, reaching its little red arms up to the sun. I think we’re all a little like that, remaining tucked away within until something causes us to open up and release our joy, basking in the moment of happy before drifting down to ground ourselves again. They make me smile…and wonder….and someday I shall find out their real name. If you know what this is, please let me know. The tree is about two stories high and I’m told, only a few years old. Interesting….very interesting Watson.