17 beats

Even after six years moose encounters still startle and impress me. See Also : Just Like Anyplace Else Except…..

Stubby little pencil hanging in the church pew holds a smile for you.

I managed to post 17 syllables to this space every. single. January day. And when I came to the end, I wondered what would happen on February 1? February 1, I posted 17 more. The concept of an American Sentence is rather obscure and though I learned about it in the context of a poetry …

Their distant parking spot did not keep them from skating to the party. 😂

A deep breath….a pause and a clearing, the choice to be  right here right now.

Take time to look up from the place where you stand, look out, beyond, and breathe.

I watch the evening fire burn and mark this, another day is done. 

When life upends us in sudden, unexpected ways, how shall we live?

Winter colors are fading now in the fast growing light of the day. See Also: Joyfully Living In Maximum Slope >> A glimpse into my first time around on the dramatic run toward the light after deep winter dark And speaking of that deep winter dark: Light that Shines in Darkness.

When the way is dark, cold, and slickery, spikes in my soles for the win. 

Finally! A bed I deserve, she says as she snuggles into the night.

Out of the deep cold we rise to put on a shiny new coat of ice. 

How does one live when melty mud and shades of grey paint across the view?

A chance encounter at the library reminds me stories matter.

Some days do not offer an obvious sentence with a good photo. The curbside recycling truck did not come today and I don’t know why.  I hope that meeting  will turn up the puzzle piece I’ve been looking for. For everything there is a season, but what thing was that season for?  How big was …

Lace up the skates and cue my courage – I wish I’d learned when I was young!

Tonight I saw a super blood wolf moon eclipse, and thus sings my soul.

The trees are all dressed in rime ice coats and it is glory to behold. 

This furry yellow smile is my sun on this ice-cold, foggy Friday.

What a gift she gave us – poetry generous, grounded, plain, and true.

I was excused from the jury box today and won’t have to decide.

Wherever you are tonight – may you find comfort, care, and shelter there.

“….haiku as a contemplative practice….that is, to prepare yourself to be touched by beauty….”  John Paul Lederach When I’m out walking, I sometimes think about John Paul Lederach’s description of haiku as the finger-tapping choreography of life:  It combines the beginner’s mind — what we might call joy, with ancient wisdom — what we might call patience. How do …

Sometimes you can’t know the choice is a fork and you won’t ever come back.