Pasture time

I was out very early this morning.
I can't tell you how long it has been since I have actually sat and watched the sun rise. What a simple pleasure, and a gift we can all count on, and appreciate, whether we can see it or not...

I am finding myself writing poetry again. I like this. To me, good poetry is exactly the same as a good dish-simple, beautiful, and with meaning.

I laid on my back in some frosty overgrown grass, and this one just happened.


Wayward bound

Which way does the cloud blow in the wind?
The way.
Swirling, twisting, floating free.
At once, all together
And then, it is gone.
A way...