Were there flowers before longing created them?
or is it the sigh of the bees
that awakens this field before my eyes…
...
There was something precious
about the way you left your window open
that day it rained and the wind was howling
Your gauzy curtain, a dancing muse, flying
...
(poem for Burma)
Come, friend, sit beside me
on the river bank
...
Does a single tear
make a difference?
I know it does -
...
Yoga teacher, run art, writing, self growth workshops, poet, counselor. Meditator)
Dream
Were there flowers before longing created them?
or is it the sigh of the bees
that awakens this field before my eyes…
or the murmur…
- is it the murmur of the breeze
caressing the flowers
that dreams me into being?