My yonder wild still calls, don’t get me wrong; some days its Sirens all that fill my ears.
Just / Air
joy and grief collide
wind chimes sing to me from the backyard this late winter morning
This canvas was not meant to be pierced.
Different is good
There’s some up top and some below, Just waitin’ for Moby to show (Huh!)
There’s beauty and there’s danger here – Split the ice apart!
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
Enough. Fall down!
Please, bring some tidings.
In case you need some ideas to freshen your list and/or want inside my holiday brain.
a lone voice asking its questions innocently, plaintively, into the void.
let connections define gaps
Look at all those holes…
overnight rain is ~ thoroughly thrumming ~ without meter ~ or rhyme
a symphony of sight – no sound –
as silent fires above abound
Is there room for classical expectations and contemporary frontiers?
good for your brain like music.