reflections of the past
of the future
of the undisclosed
and indisposed
of all that you wanted
and all that you lost
of all that was honest
and all that was not
Reflections
All posts by spanishwoods
Existence
While trying to catch your elusive image, I caught a piece of time. That moment, frozen forever, when you stopped long enough for me to crouch by the yellow flowers. That one tiny moment, otherwise gone, but for this fleeting proof of your existence and of mine.
things I love (a partial list)
homemade signs
ampersands & the capital “Q”
velvet
the smell of coffee
Elton John song “Take me to the Pilot”
early morning
the sound of geese
a rainy day
toast and jam
the blue hour of evening
Their Lives
I watched a hawk catch a small fish from the lake. His perfect form, the envy of witnessing geese, and clumsy dogs and noisy seagulls. Were the other fish mystified by the sudden disappearance of their friend? Did they swim quickly away in fright and apprehension, having their lives pass before their cloudy, bulging eyes?
Beauty
the beauty of decay
Thoughts
my thoughts fall, as does the yellow pollen–
blowing gently away with the summer breeze,
landing like golden sugar dust on the dog’s tail
Destiny
I am a traveler swimming in strange and mystic waters.
I am a trader searching for peaceful horizons
and hospitable harbors.
I am a drifter floating and following yellowed and aging maps.
I am a Peter Pan pirate of sweet and guazy dreams.
I am the captain of my own destiny.
How
What if today was a day where you took a long walk in el parque Guell, or stopped to rest on a stone bench?
What if today you laughed with a friend and drank your coffee at a mosaic table?
What if today you let your thoughts smoulder, like the sweet smoke from your cigarette, in my direction?
How would I ever know?
Things I saw on a Wednesday in Summer
a small yellow butterfly
a young osprey
three downy ducklings
a stunning sunset
grey seagulls
honking Canada geese
a tiny chipmunk
a great blue heron
two delicate dragonflies
and a soft peach rose
August Leaves
August leaves begin to fall, gently and quietly.
I take notice of their crimson coats and feel the curious
compulsion to lick the morning rain from their tender skin.
spanishwoods 