A trail of prints
Of damp little paws
Scuttling along the side
A joyful tale
Of wagging tail
Precious happy-dance stride
Screes from above
Wide arcing wings
The sun shines down so bright
How the ants
And grasshoppers cant
Oh my, a beautiful sight
A murmured “Hello,
Good morning, ma’am”
Bipedals shift as they smile
Tip of the hand
Gentleness reigns
Before me lay the miles
This one came to me on the trail; the ones that inspire my creativity are always the best rides.
—Liora
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Tolstoy says something about being stopped in his tracks, while reading poems, and asking "Now why did the poet do that?" This happens all the time. It's part of the code-breaking. When a word or phrase appears that's arresting, it does two things: it challenges my perceptions of seeing/hearing/feeling, and it moves me into new territory. By this I mean an altered state of awareness that's akin to an extended daydream, where all my senses conspire to provide fertile and syntactically engaging words or lines. It happens rarely, but when I'm there I tend to make the most of it, for days sometimes.
This stopped me square in my tracks, Liora! I do believe that you are a powerful thinker with mad skills and because of that I wish for a correspondence. I am going to subscribe in hopes you do the same. I imagine our bonded will power with these exercises will bear much fruit. I'll be in touch. Liora; do keep me on your long distance radar. In the joy of eternal collaboration from shore to shore
Love it. Just so happy ❤️