mirroreyes1

A thousand drops of rain Falling ten upon each head From the rising sun here with me To distant folk going to bed A hundred fall in the desert Every drop becoming a feast A hundred more get lost at sea Never seen by man nor beast Some drops get frozen instantly Others might turn to mist I love those best that fall on me My cheeks get gently kissed

His eyes are beaming, soft and content.  This is the best moment of his life so far.  His tiny daughter screeches angrily in his arms, but she does not quite penetrate the cocoon of peace he is in.  One tiny arm beats against his chest, and the effort finally pays off.  He tucks her little beet-red arms snuggly back into her wrappings and hoists her up to his shoulder. “Where is that bottle?” He wonders out loud.  The nurses should be back with it by now.  Soon, the bundle of hungry anger should be appeased, and he can resume his fatherly musings. He plods to the door, patting his furious newborn on her swaddled bottom and bounc

I sit there in isolation, lost in my cozy little world of nature.  Turning myself into a human sponge, I begin absorbing the sights, sounds, and smells around me.  I allow them to seep into my bones, into the skeletons in all the little hidden closets of my mind.  Nature does its spring cleaning in the dusty house that is my soul.  The burbling of water cascading over rocks is like a lullaby to my over-worked mind, replacing racing thoughts and oughts and musts and should-be-doings with ahhhh! and other deep sighs of tranquility.  The breeze whispers its touch against my cheek, stealing the spotlight of awareness for a moment, caressing my he

It’s going to explode!  Stop!  Slow down!  I can’t keep up!  Let me write these ideas down before you give me new ones!  I get in design mode, and it just won’t stop.  It swells, fills my head like a fat balloon, and I want to release some of it, set it free, make the idea or the design come to life, manifest in the physical world.  I just wish I could capture all these ideas – or have them occur to me one at a time so they can each have their moment, rather than have them all crowded into the same few moments.  They seem so wasted, like too much air in a balloon that is going to burst and destroy the balloon itself.