Where Has My Inspiration Gone?

Where has my inspiration gone?
Away with the hawk cry
Perched on top of the Redwoods

Lost in the summer sunsets
Wild pink and blue fires
That faded into a billion stars

How could I turn my back on you?

The moment I watched
Tiny grey and black sparrows
Bathing in an old fountain

Moved to tears-
Their simple joy
And sweet vibrations

The young buck deep in the forest
We stared at each other
Eyes as curious as mine

I thought of Claude and knew God was near

The black squirrel
Bounding and dancing
Through the branches of aged Oaks

Where has my inspiration gone?

Only wandering…

Hawk cry,
Wild sunsets,
Curious buck,
Black squirrel

Claude’s last breath…

In God
In Me.

Treasures

inspiration…
along the way
finding treasures
finding me

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From Ireland

When I received the post card from you I was sitting at my desk flipping a pen between my fingers.  It was a foggy morning.  Between sips of bitter coffee, I watched a blue jay perched on an empty branch, his head darting in different directions. My computer screen was a white and gray blank on my grandfather’s oak desk.  I brushed my hair out of my eyes and pulled my robe tighter around my body.  A squeak of a hinge and the blue jay was gone.

At my front door, an array of white envelopes scattered the hardwood floor.  The one with your writing I picked up first:  “Real Ireland.”  I leaned against the door, smiling. A blast of warm air from a vent rushed over my feet.  I flipped the card over:  A lone farmer hoeing, and his dog, each looking in different directions.  Behind them a countryside of green and brown edges held by mountain slopes.  I glanced to a photo of us on the brick fireplace, embracing years ago.  You had just returned from India. You wore a bright pink sari and your face was decorated in bindis. I was still wearing my work uniform; a pressed blue suit and starched blouse. I wore little makeup.  Even then, I was always the worker; you had your sights set out into the world.

Returning to my desk I removed my robe and begin to type: the screen filled with many black letters. I sat for hours, while sunlight spilled across my fingers. Later, I stood and stretched, and moved slowly to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I nibbled on cheese and bread.  I glanced out a small window-

In the sun

Each looking in different directions,

Two jays perched on a branch.