Kate Lamberg Center for Natural Healing and Creative Arts~

why she writes doesn't interest her as much as why some days she finds her being staring out into space..... letting the pen invite her in, without a filter, fresh word snow coddling some labor pains--  indifferent to whether or not it rains; healing the indifference, making each word count, round about it has never been this quiet during a storm--cats asleep, bird song muffled, secrets we do keep-- and still-- the sun returns-- in the distance a pick up truck carries bushels of apples, still dotted with last night's heavy rain words/photo- kate lamberg(c)'18

thin gray fog obscures the reliable rising sun; choices mask "no need to choose" joy sweeps us up into a farmhouse waltz barn wood walls ring, and do sing the very melody that became stuck on the roof of our mouths, resounding in the cupula ceiling- crystal beads growing brighter as the million eyes readjust to the dark, to the blatant incision of trust carved on wax, ice, yellow pine no time or interest in stoking the fire: friends come, hang out, and disappear-- it's the time of year to be clear with how we spend our free time our investments in our friends never end because the other is weathering an inner storm; no balances need be drawn- the drawing room is saved for spontaneous guests, as rocking chairs glide past the wrap around porch, take wing, do reach the furthest chagallian star left for the dreamers-- whose capillaries course clearly--a filigreed communication with room for spaces,  the holy breath: the listening room, enlarged for ...

wind in the maple tree helps to stir healing-- at dawn the gaze remains inward