Tag: photo
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New Year Nostalgia (12/31/18)
Blink. Another year passes. We’ll soon meet family. Eat dinner. Celebrate the ball dropping with champagne and New Year’s greetings. Just like last year. How quickly each new one arrives. The last hours of 2018 race by. My son turned fifteen in February of this year. I finished my last Master’s +30 courses. We traveled…
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#SilentSunday 12/30/18
A rest from #haiku See you tomorrow!
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Adventures in Dragon Riding: a #TankaProse #haibun
12/29/18: Gerry Muse #136: Year end musings I began the year with the intention to “Ride the Dragon.” The Dragon climbs and dives. The Dragon bucks hard. The Dragon rolls and shakes and does whatever it takes to throw me off. And often enough, I forgot my intention and attempted to shove that Dragon back…
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Another Rain Meditation: a #writephoto #haibun
A soft rainfall. I settle on the zafu in our bedroom. Pale light from the cloud-covered sky bathes my back from the window. I breathe. Sit. Breathe. Center. As each thought seizes my attention, I return to my awareness of my breath. Return to my original intention, to be present to the Presence. To bear…
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Contemplating a Cold Future: my latest @ImageCurve #haibun
The desk lamps reflect on the mirror-still pool. It’s a clear night. Orion’s belt, the big and little dippers, and the other constellations I can’t name shine in the clear sky. The crickets and katydids carry on. Mom sleeps it off inside. I stare at the pool, wondering what my post-college future holds. ripple a…
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Jungian Mourning
“…And the rest is silence.” cold moon
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Merry Christmas! (2018)
May all of you that celebrate enjoy a very, merry Christmas! I am taking off tomorrow, so I will see you all Wednesday! Christmas unwrapping presents with my greatest gifts
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This Year’s Christmas Tree
Deep Evergreen. Full. Red and gold balls and bells; tops with gilded bands; Russian-esque spires all around. Four sets of lights; the white nina doll ornaments Mira loves. The giant bow. Our Christmas tree, welcoming as ever. Shadows deep within the brightly-lit boughs — the only hint of sorrow in the joy cold nightwe place…
