Death bumps into life many times as just a passerby — says excuse me then goes on his way.
prose
Spring out & in
Spring: the music of open windows.
Winter art
icicles are daggers of beauty
thrown by winter’s sunshine breath
Soiled
If organic is the natural way, shouldn’t organic produce just be called “produce” and make the pesticide-laden stuff take the burden of
Depths
Grief is a haunted lake that’s all too easy to drown in.
Run for it!
Chase down your passion like it’s the last bus of the night.
Sound of winter leaves at night
Age is a foreign land I can’t get used to. I want to go back home.
Waking to a newer than new day
Each morning begins with the triumph and celebration of waking to a new day and the blessing of being able to get out of bed. What better way to start the day than with a success like that?
Life expectancy
“Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am
—Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com
Rainbow’ish
Red is passion-lit, pink is lipsensual, orange is flowerageous, yellow is suntastic, green is lifebursting, blue is skyful, purple is berrydancing,
Serenity & grace
when I fall into old age
let it be not a drunkenly
face-first tumble but rather
an autumn leaf gracefully
drifting from the tree —
or if we ascend into our
older years please let me
soar and not be flung
№ Panic
Breathe in so much gratitude that there’s no room for fear.
Winter’ish
In Phoenix, Jack Frost doesn’t nip — he just tickles.