The first steps of leaves
are always fumbling, unsure
Buds spread in every direction
The fine fuzz of birth slowly hardening
into a firmer and less innocent shell
This is the beauty of spring:
it is always somewhere
someone’s first dance
into the sun
The beauty of hope
I love the starting dance steps and the final steps and all the steps in between.
For more dancing, metaphorical and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
Do they dream
those not yet opened buds?
Before there are flowers
do the slow-unfurling petals
imagine the face
of the sun?
What do the buds know of the world they are about to enter?
I’m always fascinated by the giant leap between development and living.
For more waking to mysterious worlds, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
We speak of scenery
as frozen snapshots
moments as beautiful
as they are sterile
stripped of context
and there is a difference
between the pinned and catalogued
collection of distant mountains
of long-passed perfection
and standing in the messy brush of the sub-alpine
and feeling the mountain
beneath your feet
The world is best experienced by living it
There is a distance created with perfect imagery that loses the true power of imperfect reality.
For more of the imperfect business of living, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.