Reflective Writing
Nature is a different world, from our cars, our houses, our ambitions. Noise. Vibration. On one side of me, I hear engines speeding down the highway. On the other side, there is a workshop- a wood shop. I hear the saws. In between these boundaries, is just enough space for the world to be wild. … Continue reading The Separate Life of Nature
may I go days on broth alone spiced with mushroom and veggies or just a can of beans over a burner and coffee for the day may I carry the sinking weight of my pack on my back please Noodles are good. Already? Now, it's noodles. next it will be four cars, two houses, three … Continue reading Today
such a tender love- spirit wind surrounding logic lifting a barge overhead or the world on a donkey's back spirit makes life able the way of the firefly rat-race like, or Trojan horse all reason stretching for hard answers, easy answers none that answer sometimes it's worth more to float in the breeze walk of … Continue reading Spirit
Joy is as prominent as suffering. Accepting suffering with a joy is not impossible. If I were to say that joy suffers neglect on humanity's part in comparison to the complaining of sufferings, this would still not accurately relate to joy, how could joy absorb any neglect, any cruelty itself? This is joy, and we … Continue reading The Lost Art of Joy
From the old, wood framed window, across from my bed, I saw a flock of white bellied geese fly by in their arrow formation in the sky. It was so early in the morning, the alarm clock still had over an hour's worth of minutes to tick through, but their demonstrative calls woke me so … Continue reading Morning Geese
In a large forest, there was a ancient pond home to hundreds of toads. For over five hundred years, the Keaton family governed the pond. The Keaton family were known for their intelligence, bravery, and athletic skills. They followed practical rules, which kept toads safe from predators. There was one toad named Nicolas, a Keaton … Continue reading A Toad who Sang
Light tinkers, crawls over lichen-painted oak and dangling moss. Up and higher it climbs, striding over darkness with a big transparent foot. Dawn’s white cuff forms around the softening moon changing night to broken shadows. Like a ladder, imprints of glowing squares topple over the treetop, the leaf top. Dew is a smoke screen under … Continue reading Morning Moments
Glimpses Gentle currents of fall breeze curl over a patch of prairie land. Around the sun clouds drift casting golden mirages on browning ground. Long lost tales under crispy leaves tan, turning red before winter drawing near. Just like coves of blankets like a dome over my bed evermore dimming quiet and about silent, hibernating … Continue reading Now and Then
There, a green meadow, just beyond the wooded shade open grass, long blades, belly barren from winter one slow pausing step, watching, listening careful not to trust clear day too much sunlight over my nose moist, lifting eyes of beaded brown stare upon spring patches, watering mouth, luring, stepping, step bowing my head, I eat … Continue reading The Green Meadow
Kate Lunsford 