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As I sit on the primeval soil. I notice three butterflies dart. And double back at me,. Silly little flutterers, go into. A perennial posy I culled from the cay,. How many moments of butter-time. Have passed between that moment and me? Only in time can the moment in the garden,. The moment under the amber-apricot tree,. The moment the ash falls from the aspen wave-break. But just before it was lost forever,.
Divine Direction and Glimpses of Pasts. It is funny how when you go looking for something, you do not find it but you stumble upon related things or ties from the past. This entry was posted on February 24, 2014, in Uncategorized. Night has reared it shady head. My mind begins to unwind. Aching muscles remind me the prices I paid along this journey. Eyes burn from visions flashing all around.
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