OUTSIDE MY FRENCH DOORS

Outside my French doors, dawn fight with the night over the coming day. A fiery sword flashes, a dark cloak counters. Though I know the outcome, I watch, fascinated by the battle. Why? What is it about conflict that attracts? We see it at sporting events, we are pulled in to the TV news like addicts when there is a disaster, between nature and animal, between the earth and man, and especially between clashing members of the human race. Why are we not more fascinated by love?

The dogs pay no attention to the war between morning and evening. Noses to the ground they follow the story of night time visitors, trotting along, tails wagging, tongues lolling.

Horses stand, warm shadows towers of meditation, still, waiting.  There is a lesson in their calmness.

A brazen squirrel tightropes the top fence board, then leaps into the deep dark blue and hangs swaying in the air from a branch I cannot see. He traverses the border between bright and dark with ease.

My gaze turns back to the eastern horizon. Morning and night are paused on the edge of indigo. A truce for the moment.

I turn away to seek the light. A story awaits my thoughts, my words. I will build a fire, and brew some tea.

This is the season when thoroughbreds are born. It brings back memories of when I was a Foal Watcher. I shall nestle within the images and see where they lead. Perhaps, they will lead to a tale of hope. Perhaps, I shall be fascinated by the love between a woman and a horse, while outside my French door the battle over dawn is coming to its inevitable end.

I Am Animal

Most of my day was spent inside and by late in the afternoon I realized I was feeling a bit down. It hit me, I am an animal at heart. Life without being outside, is not living, it is existence, lacking the color, taste, and feel of being alive. I need fresh air on my skin to breathe, the sight of the sky to see, the brush of plant life to feel. It's simple, and such a wonderful thing, knowing what makes your heart sing. 

Boston, may hope overshadow the sadness

I look at what I wrote four hours ago about the beauty and peace of a spring day in the South, and I am sad. Dark clouds of hate have burst forth in Boston since then. They've taken the gift of light from the day we'd been given. 
Please world of my fellow humans, at least the few my words reach, let's begin a movement of emphasizing the beauty of being alive. Let us send hope of a world without violence. Let us stop shouting about our differences and start finding our similarities. Let us love one another, at least here, in our own country. Let us not destroy. Let us focus on the wonderfulness of our world, not on the evil thoughts of a few. Let us reach out and hold the hand of peace. Amen.