Oh hey, You look like someone that I used to know As I almost walk into a street sign that could have been death instead. I can't help but wonder if making laws that shouldn't need to be made or signs that seem over-played, is a necessity, because common sense is anything but common. All you have to do is watch the news so rotten. Or scan the headlines, if you're already so depressed... You just can't get any less impressed. It seems our species has lost the plot completely. A lot of people won't say "hi" And I don't know why. Maybe they're just shy? Stuck in their own space Happy days in happy places Are treasures to cherish. Because you never know The creaking tree could come crashing down From above to below. You just never know. Crows converse. And call me crazy But I think I know what they say. Bluejay bursts in, blatantly billowing. And the buzzing! I sense a message That might make sense in another language Like a moth chasing a flame Or a bird chasing that moth - in vain. One cicada, two cicada, three cicada, chorus By the creek, And in the forest Where the cheeky chickadee chirps, Chillaxin And then the chainsaw A blast back to reality, An outlaw, the machine... ... messing with my meditative mindset, Oh, the hypocrisy! Could it be prophecy? See full post, here! |
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I love where I live and the joy that it gives: Dundas, Ontario, it's Our Valley-Town, Along Spencer Creek, where nature abounds. In my backyard, Great Beauty is found. Though I didn't always know, and I was sort of just a schmo; For it was not but several years ago... I'd trek along the trail, oblivious to the snails. Thumbs thumping iPhone, iPod pop tunes, head down, and wrapped in my own private sound. iMind my iBusiness, but now it seems I digress... In my middle-aged Nowadays, I listen to what the bird says, the clamouring cicadas, thundering and the creaky tree. The water is turning and churning, that cascading creek, rushing those rocks! If you really listen, you know that the creek truly talks. When it's inspiration that I seek I take myself out for a peek. Sitting on a rock by a creek I listen and hear nature speak. I see. And I'm in utter awe of many mighty, minuscule, meaningful moments: Oh, dear! A deer and me, we share a stare while the hare hops and the squirrel goes over the bridge. "You're an Artist. And it's a great place to Be," said the biker to the Dreamer. And, just so you know this is a true story, more or less, or less is more... Maybe it was all but a dreamer's dream, or a poet's poem? Here is the complete adventure in photographs: https://www.facebook.com/missnikkirocks/media_set?set=a.10157099612965705.1073741878.605790704&type=3&pnref=story |
Along Spencer Creek, or, Why I Love Living in, Our Valley Town, Dundas, OntarioI love Dundas so I'm gonna show it with my pictures! ~ Navajo Prayer ~
******************* In beauty may I walk. All day long may I walk. Through the returning seasons may I walk. Beautifully will I possess again... Beautifully birds... Beautifully joyful birds... On the trail marked with pollen may I walk. With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk. With dew about my feet may I walk. With beauty may I walk. Archives
November 2018
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