Snowflake Kisses and Warm Winter Wishes!

May Light always surround you;
Hope kindle and rebound you.
May your Hurts turn to Healing;
Your Heart embrace Feeling.
May Wounds become Wisdom;
Every Kindness a Prism.
May Laughter infect you;
Your Passion resurrect you.
May Goodness inspire
your Deepest Desires.
Through all that you Reach For,
May your arms Never Tire.
~D. Simone

Happy New Year

Random 16: Optional

Childhood game.

Agree and disagree.

Disagree and agree

was simple and fun.

Being in adulthood

for a long period.

Things are twisted.

Minds get rigid.

Ideas are fixed.

Windows are

tightly shut.

Agree – disagree

is not fun any more.

Friends mock others.

For being liberal.

For being kind to others.

Being rationale.

And most of all

for opposing

the fake image

of nationalism.

Staying and suffering

was optional.

The weight of

fake friendships was

heavy.

She chose freedom.

Now question is

Will she be happy?

****************************

Be kind

Sunday Trees

sundaytree_29dec19

“Perfection”

Every oak will lose a leaf to the wind.
Every star-thistle has a thorn.
Every flower has a blemish.
Every wave washes back upon itself.
Every ocean embraces a storm.
Every raindrop falls with precision.
Every slithering snail leaves its silver trail.
Every butterfly flies until its wings are torn.
Every tree-frog is obligated to sing.
Every sound has an echo in the canyon.
Every pine drops its needles to the forest floor.
Creation’s whispered breath at dusk comes
with a frost and leaves within dawn’s faint mist,
for all of existence remains perfect, adorned,
with a dead sparrow on the ground.

Poet – R.H. Peat

Inspired by Becca’s Sunday Trees

Macro Monday: Party time

partytime_12aug19

“Place a beehive on my grave
And let the honey soak through.
When I’m dead and gone,
That’s what I want from you.
The streets of heaven are gold and sunny,
But I’ll stick with my plot and a pot of honey.
Place a beehive on my grave
And let the honey soak through.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

Floral Friday

floralfriday_28mars19_2.jpg

Daffodowndilly

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.”

A.A. Milne [from When We Were Very Young]