A blast of wind

A blast of wind from the south.makes her yearn for even slower days. Casting all worries out to green pastures, she revels in the dance of acorns--rolling on their sides, beneath the towering pine. The first quarter moon shines a golden luster-- nearing a lunar fullness. This luster brightens the circuitous earthen path, for soul travelers seeking to harvest a blue stoned home. Somewhere in the high sierras violet, fuscia, and yellow wild flowers grow silent. Tracts of herbal plantings are tended to, and rainbow trout swim-- up a fresh water stream. We remember what it means to simply breathe and create--an irregular harmonic improvisation--as we show up for our lives.