Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte


Traveling includes an inevitable returning.
Feeling I’m back home takes its own sweet time.
Key turns in the lock, door opens to rooms
I know by heart. Suitcase in the hall,
Stuff to unpack I’m too tired to tackle.

Then piles of mail, emails unending, bills to pay
Require attention while my body’s still mending.
I feel enfolded by familiar space, and wait.
My trip was exceptional. I’m so glad I journeyed.
Now I seek peace and time to reflect.

Today is different. I stretch and move slowly
Content to do nothing, no deadlines in sight.
Sensing transition while washing lunch dishes
Absorbed contemplating their primary colors
I found myself lost in thought and back home.


High Noon: A Haiku

Once I loved high noon.
Hot sun bronzed my winter face
Wrinkles now attest.


Pings on Another Sort of Web

Lately I’ve been feeling that I am in a time of change
A tipping point, a moving-on place. Now where to go from here?
Thoughts with a fellow traveler in Costa Rica brought fruitful yield.
Words authored by a writer with roots in Celtic spirituality
Might have a clue, he said. I read and knew beyond a doubt within the
Pages of the book I had encountered one more traveler to take to heart.

In threads of conversation with a blogger on the Word Press web
Ancient musings on age and time brought forth her mention of same book
Dear to her own Celtic spirit roots. How can it be? Miles apart
She and I found affinity with the author whose wise poems a beacon
Beckoned me to look around and see my current ending long ago began,
Now joined and pinged from heart to heart in Cosmic harmony.


Words With Wings

Poem with profound thoughts
That once graced this blog-world page
Vanished without trace.

A single keystroke
Launched by tech-world enemy
Exploded my post.

April Fool’s on me.