But a grievance is something not quickly forgotten,
And without a pardon, it’s quick to revive.
…it claws to the surface with only one purpose:
The problem ain’t dead, it’s just buried alive.
It flickered and glowed and murmured to us; Mesmerizing, tantalizing, synchronizing our thoughts together in those moments that stretched between eventide and starlight. When had the banter and light laughter stopped? It was so peaceful, so calm. As the darkness deepened, night chill set in, and one by one everyone left for the warmth of indoors and bed
The woodlands are filled with drama. Raven’s dive-bomb grosbeak, chickadees, grackles and jays, Great Horned Owls seek and destroy Northern Flying squirrels and their red cousins, while woodpeckers girdle the bark off of LodgePole pines and spruce trees. Bees buzz, dragonflies dart and flies bite. Even growing vegetables or greens is a conscientious exercise, deer and moose have no qualms about sharing the garden any more than a coyote nabbing your cat…
A gaze that turned chance into a tryst wrapped in sanctity, cloaking all inhibitions in a perfect imperfection and magic like fairy dust writing each moment and the present straining like wild horses to merge with an unwritten future…
© 2021 Contemplative