Silver lined

Days filled to overflowing

ocean water blue-green cascading around my legs

cool wetness soothing the spirit

just being at one.

Waiting in line noticing the color

pastries lined on silver trays

as the old man ahead decides

wearily leaning on the worn cane

hands thick with worn veins

confusion in his lost blue eyes

she orders for his decision cannot be made

in a timely pace she moves him aside

cast off like a sinking ship

his eyes look down as he shuffles away.

I wonder then, staring at the hues of bread,

when was it last that he felt the ocean

caress his weary soul,

and does he dream of silver lined clouds

his youth so far away

and I know I too shall someday pass into the space

where he resides in slow motion,

and I exit through glass to see the gathering clouds,

gently waiting in a blue sky,

and I know there must be a silver lined thought

waiting there for me to reach

to grasp it firm and hang on,

to fly in the atmosphere of the young,

to remember the importance

before it fades to grey.

I’ve been practicing my artwork again and a friend requested to see a bit of what I’ve been dabbling in. The clouds are with my new indigo waterpaint and the collection below if a little of what we’ve been working on in class……and miles to go before I am any good, but damn, so glad I am blessed to see the colors, not only in the paints but in this life. Spent the morning in the ocean, walking for an hour with hubby and collecting more sharks teeth and “just being”, it had been far too long and the ocean was calm and I am in a good space. Peace and love, K


Gently we go

Into the memory bank to make a withdrawal,

gently we go into our days remembering

as an image comes to mind,

when things are broken we need to gather

the proper tools of love to fix the pieces.

Holding carefully we examine the thought,

swept through this waking dream we conjure

the invisible lines that separate us from now to then,

retracing the steps through magical realms

and revisiting the sacred spaces of our youth.

We affix the pieces together like a puzzle,

knowing just where to place each one

to complete the image just so,

we smile in our perfect innocence

and turn the page to find

the next adventure.

Why this image brought me forth

from a mid morning daydream of bears and special places,

of doing the best to mend,

and as my finger traces I go back to the days

of reading such sheer magic,

a gift from someone,

but pencil images in hard covered volumes,

fill a mind with wonder

at the simple things

that gave a smile.

Our pup Apple was a bit gimpy yesterday and although we made it through our morning walk this morning, she is having her moments of limping and quite clingy, following me everywhere through the house. I remembered this picture and pulled it up on-line, how I wish I had a magical wand to make her leg return back to her normal marching gait, but for now she will sit beside me in slumber, resting against me as she has her doggie dreams where she chases the varmints like a young girl again. Peace and a lovely Tuesday my friends.

Into the autumn of life

My thoughts move into the Autumn of life, sitting at a window watching the world move here and there, always moving, like the moments of life. Days of endless summer seem to push the thought of Autumn farther to the back recesses of the mind, a place that does not yet exist, although each day that passes, waking with a new ache, a new pain replacing yesterdays malady, makes the weight of the changes so much more profound. I don’t want to be old. I don’t want to watch the world move without me, without my words drifting out from a thick volumes pages, without someone somewhere saying, yes, she was someone beautiful. Will I remember as my hair turns to brilliant shades of white, glistening like the Northern snow I left behind in search of the sun, each fragment of joy that I embraced, each word of kindness spoken, each piece of beauty, will it still remain the same? Fresh like a crisp red apple that falls from a tree, waiting to be tasted, even though I know before my lips even prick the skin, I know the taste will be tart, the consistency crunchy, the juice so very sweet. It’s these things I want to remember. The Autumn of life so far away yet I still ponder it in my youth, for it is youth that sustains me. The feeling of exceeding each day in wonder, in memory. I need the laughter, the love of a moment that may never pass this way again, the exuberance of the failed attempts at hula hooping or the glee as I awake in the morning, rolling on the bed with the two hounds, feeling like I’m part of a pack of puppies as they wag their tail, rubbing their selves around me with a toothy smile and a bubble gum pink tongue hanging as if they themselves are relishing this moment. The rain came down with flashes of lightning and it lifted me as it has a tendency to do. It is cleansing, this rain. The little hound sits by my feet, knowing I will protect her or perhaps it is she protecting me. The sheets of water fell for a little while then moved on, it’s mission done for now, perhaps to return, we shall see. For here there is constant change, sun to cloud to dark to light and back round again. Perpetual summer but the rains that I remember and loved best always came in autumn. The smell of earth being washed clean, the damp leaves that would now become a part of the earth, from life to death, full circle. I am not morose, instead I am capturing the meandering path these thoughts take, in a land of people who move slow, elderly bodies with kind eyes that pass in the market and nod a simple hello, and even to poets who reach a long lived age and with a vibrancy I too wish to secure for myself. So many lessons to learn on living and staying young, lessons from nature, and from memories of a lifetime still to embrace.

To the young and old at heart, keep on keeping on and don’t forget to laugh and embrace the world around you.

It shall pass

In ancient places words live
soft, unspoken pieces
like ancient ghosts carving verse on clouds,
they will come to us in dreams,
waking us from the sleep so very deep
carrying us back in time
to our beginning,
leaving us questioning
the truth of our souls.
The trees will move past,
beyond our control they will move forward
as we sit and ponder their mysteries
they will shroud us in their canopy
sustaining our breath
yet continually exceeding our grasp,
branches too far
too high,
to climb.
We will see the light break through
as the wind meanders through their leaves
and we take comfort in their shade,
they will cover all we’ve imagined important
laying to waste with their might
surviving past our feeble days
strong and rooted
in the Mother earth,
grasping for life as we ponder fate,
they dont wonder
they just exist and move on
stronger and mightier
than cloud words that drift
out of view.
Majestic visions speak of time
when we were fragments of stars
and trees began as a small seed
planted in the mind
and taking root
exceeding the places man built brick by brick,
encompassing the city
of our dreams,
showing that strength conquers stone.

Through her fingers-(a short story)

“When all the stars are falling down Into the sea and on the ground, 

And angry voices carry on the wind, 

A beam of light will fill your head 

And you’ll remember what’s been said 

By all the good men this world’s ever known.” Melancholy Man-The Moody Blues

The song played quietly in the background as he looked around the dimly lit room, not sure why he was here, only knowing that the eerie purple “come in” sign in the window called for him to see what lay beyond the shuttered door. 

The old hunchbacked woman gazed into his blue eyes as she shuffled the deck, and reaching out her hand, gnarled and wrinkled like an old withered tree, felt her grasp his fingers with a surprising strength and looked up into her rheumy eyes. She had him hold the cards for just a moment and then pulled them back with a nod, as if he had enough time with her beloved treasure, and then she calmly began to sort them one by one into some kind of order that only she knew. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through the brown shaggy locks of hair that had fallen into his eyes and then looked at each card she placed had before him.

 “You will return to me” she said with a throaty younger womans voice which startled him, and he watched as before his eyes, she began to change. Her hands that held the remaining cards became smooth and a ring on her finger he hadn’t noticed before began to glow a strange green. Her eyes became a beautiful shade of jade, the rheumy opaqueness now gone. Her hair lay in brown waves down her back and there was no longer even a touch of grey. He looked around the room which hadn’t changed at all and then back at the old, now young woman seated before him. She smiled and handed him an object, a mirror he realized, that was facedown. “I’ve waited as a hundred stars fell, like each tear as the years passed and I knew you’d come, I just didn’t know when” she said passively, then took his hand in hers. 

Confused, he looked down in sudden shock to see that his hand had now become a gnarled tree-like appendage and hers silky smooth like a young woman’s. He lifted the mirror with a trembling hand and gazed at his image, and as her laughter filled the space between them, he heard a scream from within his soul.

Just trying out a bit of short story fun today…..let me know what you think.

Sweet night

Whiskers painted on a little face

tails and ears pinned with care

smiling grins eager to begin

eerie night awaits if you dare.

Sacks ready for the sweets to fall

wild winds blow as ghost sheet flaps

running through the darkness

at the door fall the bangs and happy taps.

Trick or treat fills the autumn air,

Where voices and laughter float

super heroes and turtles with masks

a unicorn and a bright green goat,

the wicked witch and Snoopy too

on All Hallows’ Eve

when the small ones pass through.

Pumpkims carved with the sharpest knife,

thrills and chills

and spooky nights,

cobwebs hung by spiders black

cats run by your winding path.

I remember these days with fondness then

of chocolate and caramel apples,

candy corn and UNICEF coin,

of parties where the laughter rang clear

and into the night we longed to stay out

to get more treats, no tricks we’d give

the life of such joy,

we’d give anything to relive.


the fun of days long gone by, but to see the costumes now brings such joy. Trick or treating rocks….I think I need a Reese’s or Snickers perhaps….mmmmm caramel apples…..yummmmm….

And I shall…

Warm drops fall in the quiet of morning
in places older than time
that began before I was a thought,
before I became.
Roots grow deep below the earth
invisible lines moving outward
reaching for the life
to sustain a thought
born of a moment
nestled in the eerie glow
a shimmering pool moving
with the moisture of dawn.
I shall be one with each word
each memory made
as clocks tick forward without end,
no broken glass casing to stop
the moving hand that keeps going ’round
like the sun that is born each day
and the moon that follows,
like a dog to his master
says silently, wait for me please….
as these days I grow weary and tired
keeping company with my thoughts
can be such a lonely world,
and if you stop and wait for me
where the mossy oak stands,
I shall sit beside you for a while
and feed your soul the energy of
this simple love as you reach for me
and I shall be there
I shall be there for you and
I shall carry you through.
We will not break the bond,
this silence of the moment
for in it will be the lifes nectar,
like the song of these birds that fly
chirping their lectures to those below,
and we will know,
we will pay heed to their words of song,
for they see more than we,
those wise feathered friends,
sitting upon the top of this tree.
As we stand below on the roots
that go deep
under our feet as we remain here
for this journey,
a part of the greater whole
and it shall be

Moving mountains

Upon the rocks shifting
Thoughts move to images below
Glistening water filtering
Between the clouds of my day.
Stepping higher into the mind
Grasping stones to climb
Sun so close yet so far
I reach out to touch
The face of morning.
Stumbling yet moving forward
Muscles tested to tense and release
And the quivering of knowledge
Pushed to the point
Of wide open spaces
To free fall into the magnificence
That is life.
How I long to linger
In quiet spaces
To see the beauty of familiar faces
Weather worn as each day passes
Growing into the beauty of their souls
And magical wishes that
Everyday can be like this
And the truth in knowing
That it shall be.
To go so far
Touching the top of the sky
The blue that had seemed just too far away
Turn around to find
The middle ground of peace
And the journey along the way
Scattered with memories
Like each stone moved
To make mountains.


On moss-covered patches
Sitting amongst the quiet still trees
Canopied above
Becoming one with bird and beast
Eyes closed in awareness
Mind slows
To a feather thought.
Heart bare to the day
What will be or what may
Silver tendrils escape
Caught by a whispered breeze
I cannot see.
Fresh cut earth fills
My senses carried forward
Like sightless roads through mountains
Darkness shamed by light
And truth of respect given
For each step taken.
Rising up to break
This invisible energy thread
Unconnected adrift I move
As toes sink in cool green
Spinning world undetected
Yet so very real.
To walk into the fog
Peppered so gently
The softness of a misting rain
I hold loose as my hands
Ache from the carrying of weight
I open my palms to set free
The thoughts that moments before trod over me
And I ride effortlessly
Into the forest realm
With only the sound of breath
To fill the emptiness
To break the wave
Of silence.

Thoughts on the cool moss beyond the pond, of change, of again and the spirit of peace that being near earth, water, trees and silence brings forth to me. A sweet gift indeed. Lovely image found on Internet, no artist listed.

Wisdom in water

Slowly she moved towards the water
Still and cool
Deep pool before her,
Kneeling down she gazed at the image before her
A young vibrant version of herself
My youth I had forgotten, she thought
Ah those days she smiled softly.

She hears the quiet voice speaking
“If you give my your soul, I shall return you to
The glory of your youth”
And she waits but hears no more.

She spoke then after careful thought, or perhaps no thought was really needed, just a pause before it was heard, “it is not my soul to give, for it is free to all, it moves like wind and cannot be caught nor given.”
“My soul and yours are one, they are the very essence of light and dark, and to say I would trade it for something I already hold within seems unfair somehow. It is essence of life and it is something we all cherish yet to set it free, it becomes a gift to this world, to those who need it most to come Into their lives.”

Silence was then the only sound heard and she turned to see emptiness. A breeze moved the grasses and the flowers bowed under the cloudless sky.

She returned her gaze to the water, to the image before her and she reached out her finger to touch the smooth skin of youth reflected. Ripples moved and turned the smooth face to wrinkles, lines of a life etched across her face became a part of the waters painting. Near her eyes the lines from the joy of looking towards the sun, near her lips, lines to mark every smile given and across her forehead lines from worry for the world she had born.
As a tear fell, the drop became a circle that grew larger, moving towards the other side and forward to the bank.

She cups her hands and submerges them in the cool wetness, lifting the water she drinks deeply, knowing the ripples will smooth out once more and someday she will gaze again into the pool, maybe many years from now or maybe tomorrow. And she will still see the beauty there. She will still know her soul embraces the changes and she will still move free.