Where the path ends

We move through the splendor

aromas fill the noon-day air under the sun

warmth on the shoulders I walk quietly

as thoughts drift to the softness

the colors

the beauty found here.

Unexpected the garden fills me

with a tranquil peace as my mind seeks quiet,

unwinding the spring that has become

the muscles tight and weary

longing for a place to just be

and then she finds me,

this solitary bloom tinged with pastel

and the pink like a sigh

so soft and subtle

peace lives here on the corner

where the path ends

and begins,

the only image captured in this place,

the sight my feet kept moving me towards

under the noon-day sun

I breathe.

Walking through Mabel Ringlings rose garden I stopped to smell many yet only took a picture of one that drew me in. Sending peace to you all my friends, and also to myself in these days when it is so needed. Peace and blessings, always, K

Hidden within

Amongst the beauty

gentle thoughts

like the petal of silk

touching gently with a smile

hidden below

it only takes one prick

piercing suddenly

the thorn that cuts

drawing blood

leaving a trail of sadness

marring simple moments

with pain.

rise up and mend the wound

heal it with inner love,

perhaps at least to try.


on rising above words regardless.

Running for julep

Oh no, I heard the news that the Vicar’s In Trouble
Harry’s Holiday had just come to an end
Uncle Sigh could be heard from the floor below
Danza on the boob tube in reruns,
Almost time to get the bike some new California Chrome
Samraat the cat stretched in the windowsill
We Miss Artie I thought with a smile
General A Rod never liked him much
Vinceremos was a beautiful friend
He always drank that Wildcat Red
Hoppertunity was not knocking today(SCRATCHED)
But a Dance With Fate could be waiting us all
Chitu was a happening beach bar I recalled
Medal Count for the most popular girl ran high
Tapiture, that tasty tapas hangout I could go for some now,
Intense Holiday all in all
Commanding Curve these hips don’t lie,
Hey Candy Boy, stop in soon
We can take a Ride On Curlin
That bike so Wicked Strong
To Pablo Del Monte (SCRATCHED) maybe someday.

Poem created by the names of the derby horses.