Walking is like a photosynthesis activity for us, an absorption of what’s out there to help us grow and stay healthy within, and also a process of shedding mental toxins.
Talk of poems and prayers and promises and things that we believe in;
How sweet it is to love someone, how right it is to care;
How long it’s been since yesterday and what about tomorrow?
What about our dreams and all the memories we share?
I’m fascinated by the dandelion; such a temporal thing it is. Transient, and yet tenacious, it grows, blooms, morphs, and flies away, above the fray, to plant seeds (and a new life) somewhere else.
A quiet story about coming out of a long, silent austerity into the startlingly lush experience of in-person conversation and a meal with another couple outside of our bubble.
it’s not enough to “not be racist,” I must be anti-racist and actively involved in highlighting injustice and creating a better world, along the lines of “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem”.
A haiku inspired by mourning doves in the early morning at Gumbo Cove … were they sentries? Signposts? They seemed like they were anxiously awaiting something. Like us.
