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.
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