Wind Mountain

Whale belly white

talus clanks underfoot

like brittle bones of

a xylophone;

an ancient song

from a mountain’s tongue

lying atop layers of

soil and needle.

 

There’s a story here

where they quested

for Spirit

on the ridge

under a snowy blanket of stars.

 

The Doug Firs whir

with the sudden rushing wind.

Overhead, a bald eagle peers

into the treetops.

 

We’re a tiny page

of a great big book;

passing clouds casting

shadows across the valley floor.

 

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Maybe Live A Little!

Tap, tap, tap.

What’s making that sound? I looked around trying to solve the puzzle. When I spotted her, I laughed! A little woodpecker was perched up high on the side of a black light pole tap-tapping away. At first I thought the poor thing must be confused, mistaking a light pole for a tree! 

But this little bird kept coming to mind throughout my day. And on second thought, maybe she just wanted to make music. 

Sometimes, like this little bird, we don’t fit in; we do things differently. Maybe others think we’re foolish because of it. Well the encounter today was a reminder to do your own thing anyways…be the dork, care enough to cry, do a silly, little dance in the grocery aisle, sing off-key!

The quirky way you interact with the world is a gift to us all.

When we free ourselves up to be authentic, we give others permission to do the same.

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