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The Lotus
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
—Rabindranath Tagore
Today’s offering in celebration of Earth Day: Precious moments aboard this beautiful planet with a reading of my favorite poem by e.e. Cummings, #26

That little skipper…
“When I look in her eyes she goes with me to a blossom world…I’m pickin’ up good vibrations….what elation…what a sensation…”
–Good Vibrations, The Beach Boys
[This post was inspired by Kathy at Lake Superior Spirit who is playing a fun game of “Photo Shorts.” Tag. You’re it!]

The Monday morning hustle shuffle plays on autorepeat: traffic jamming, horns blaring, cell phone ringing, signals crossing. In the heart of the city, hidden in plain sight of the human enterprise, lies a different venture. Off the paved and trodden trails, tune down, down, down the eyes, the ears, the flesh, to receive another broadcast: the pulsing song of the heart wood is playing.
[This post was inspired by Kathy at Lake Superior Spirit who is playing a fun game of “Photo Shorts.” Tag. You’re it!]

The last day of August, a field of sunflowers beckons with all heads nodding, “Come.” A detour occurs, as she on her way somewhere forgotten, steals a moment to walk the trail and look deeply into flower faces. Worker bees go on about their dirty jobs as white butterflies aerial dance over it all.
[This post was inspired by Kathy at Lake Superior Spirit who is playing a fun game of “Photo Shorts.” Tag. You’re it!]

The fairy ring showed up yesterday. Last year it erupted on August 20, only it went unrecognized as a ring because of its size. This year the entire circle is obvious, tethered as it is to the sycamore tree.

The radius is longer than the tape measure, so a girl has to do math and calculations involving pi. 🤓The circumference is just over 84 feet.
There is marjoram and thyme growing nearby, but the ring’s inner sanctum is not to be traversed. A girl who is already prone to exhaustive dancing has to draw the line somewhere. There are principles to be upheld. 🧚🏼

The morning walk into the midst led to this:
A magic moment that can’t be dismissed,
Or maybe it could, but why
miss water becoming sky?
Intersection.

Reflection.
Introspection.
Intersection.
Back to water sky flows.

Will it be missed?
Will it be mist?
Will it be in the midst
of another intersection in the mist?
