Ordinary Dreams — Sunday, May 20, 2018

Ordinary dreams are never clear–they are jumbles of this and that

As we sleep we walk in small places where the old gods used to roam

In that time long-before Christ came.

Those ancient gods of hills and woods and streams

We wander here and there in the dusk of our daily happenings, free from rituals, cities crowded with men

Where sometimes we walk thoughtlessly, as if we are kings, or fairies, or even riding on stars moving silently in the Universe

Sometimes we meet scary unknown things, which zip out of the air of our thoughts, rushing toward us like a demon felt only within the dark

Jerking awake, breathing like we are riding the wind—to realize we just dream.

Turning over…flipping the pillow to the cool side, we once more fall asleep and dream

 

A thoughtlessly as wee babe in a mother’s arms.

I hope your Sunday is a very good one!

Your friend on a western Colorado farm,

Linda

 

Color Poured Over Us —– Tuesday, September 5, 2017

“August has passed, and yet summer continues by force to grow days.  They sprout secretly between the chapters of the year, covertly between its pages.”— Johnathan Safran Foer

 

The horrible fires here in the west

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Are wrecking havoc on all the wonderful trees, homes, and lives of people—although the news is not mentioning anything about them.

Our skies tell the story….clouds running thin and high or even slackening veering off to other places … leave only the smoke to color the world

We work under that huge orange orb; evening, noon, and

Morning.

Although, there are no fires right here.  There is testiment, in the skies, of the horror others in the west are experiencing.

The sun, like a torch (which it is) throwing masses of color into the air…speaks volumes of the terror stalking those in the burning west.

From my heart to your world.

Linda