Early morning is my spirit time. I see the world through poet’s eyes and my scars aren’t painful. All things are possible.
Two walked: a small woman and a large black dog on a leash and harness. They’d been together on the canal for years. The light changed. The dog was the shadow of the form leading it. The light changed again. Not a woman, but a great stalking bird, carefully stepped on stilt legs, turning its slender head on a long graceful neck.












A-mused
The Universe breathes languidly
in and out
the green sigh of photosynthesis.
Drowsy flowers stretch their petals sunward,
the morning yearns for noon — straight up.
Our star blazes life down upon us.
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