Tag: poetry

Morning’s Quiet Green

Alarm shatters sleep long before dawn helter skelter fumbling for shower and what to wear pulling on a sock and email between sips of coffee cat food dog food fish food horse food me food almost done check the dog water, refill oh, forgot dog pills get cheese need milk, need cat food… Grab keys, turn off lights pat dogs, pat cat, say good-bye out … Read More Morning’s Quiet Green

Wordless Wednesday ~ tiny wings

smaller than a thumbsize does not define the hearttiny hummingbird ~ Photograph by ZenDoe, ©ZenDoe 2013

Pop-Up Haiku ~

early morning drive emerald fields of purple spring throws on her robe . Photo Credit:  Google Images

Broken Crow

silver snow-lit night black crow scribes his epitaph dragging broken wings For three days, he held his position under the bird feeder, scrappy enough to scare off the squirrels.  Hopping around the yard and cawing like a fish monger, you’d think he was still king.  Last night, I watched him leave his post.  He made the arduous trek to the front field and disappeared.  I’ll remember … Read More Broken Crow

Spring Whispers

The sun took tentative steps from behind February clouds this morning.  A winter’s worth of mud conceded, retreated a fraction of an inch, not quite ready to admit the twitchings of little grass roots.  Just today, horses play and tease, nibbling the hem of my jacket, back to life after months of bracing against cold. Step into the barn.  Quiet ~ then whooosh of tiny bird wings. … Read More Spring Whispers

Freshly Pressed! Really??!!

“Are You Listening” was featured on freshly Pressed! Get the smelling salts! *Running about in the pasture, flapping my hands and hyperventilating* Thank you, WordPress Editors! Most important, thank YOU, readers.  Your encouragement has inspired me. Zen Doe

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Are You Listening?

At the paddock gate, stop to become horse. The whirlwind of everyday thoughts has no useful place here Leave grind-mind at the gate, as you would your shoes outside the door of the temple Listen! Listen with your fingertips, to the cold of the latch Hear with your eyes, the beads of night-dew frozen now in splendid prisms. Listen!  Become a great wide door to the … Read More Are You Listening?