dark thoughts
seep into the dampness
of the dying day
The Dying Day
Tag Archives: pennsylvania
A Grey September Day
On a mid-September morning, we took a walk along the river. It was a southwestern Pennsylvania grey day, a black and white morning, a monochromatic mind set. My worries tread on the hamster wheel of thoughts inside of my head, churning, stumbling, exhaustingly futile. In the distance, a great blue heron stands regally, barely recognizable, probably scouting his breakfast. The pup and I watch the water flow towards the city, and experience a strange vertigo for an instant, a letting go, a weightless sensation that passes quickly and momentarily knocks the worries from my mental track giving me enough time to hold onto other thoughts—the soft clouds, the bridge in the distance, the lushness of the trees, the temporary silence. I slow my breathing and pet the pup, “let’s go girl”, I say and walk gently forward.
In Dreams
city streets and secret gardens
sparkling rivers dressed in a winter sun
postcards from Chagall
February
driving along thick ice and tamped down snow,
passing horses and a stray grey cat,
i slow down at an expanse of farmland,
roll my window down, as the music hums softly in the background,
and take a big, cold breath of a Pennsylvania morning in February
Pennsylvania
our eyes travel along the edges of your rolling hills,
across soft, emerald fields,
alongside small homesteads filled with golden,
straw-colored dreams and clear streams of enchanted river songs
Spring Rain
The rain falls steadily and silently.
With a liquid velvet touch
it rests on trees and brown grass,
kissing them gently back to life.
Insects of Summer
Tiny artful creature–
where are you now?
Lily Garden
When I close my eyes, I smell you.
With me
walk with me until we can’t walk anymore
talk with me until we can’t talk anymore
laugh with me until we can’t laugh anymore
be with me until we can’t be anymore
March Morning Thoughts
Thinking about green summer days
when the heron flies above the river
and the breeze makes the leaves
rustle and sway.
Green summer thoughts
make a cold March morning
feel warmer.
spanishwoods 