Every day, a photograph, a poem. Each day and each night I thank the essence that is for another day ahead and another day of life. I appreciate the “daily grind.” That is our life, and our attitudes and resulting actions create the path of our hope and calm or worry and chaos. Deep breaths do help on those days when chaos wins, and a purring cat or the ear of a friend will save the day.
So the day after day is my poem.
In the early morning, fog rises from the river, a ribbon of white flowing with the ocean of air, spreading out over the earth below where people awaken to their daily being, perhaps unknowingly thankful for another day as they glance out the window to a sun peeking over the basalt cliffs of the coulee walls.
Throughout the day children chatter on their way to school, mothers rush off to work— fathers already there. Clouds form as others repair cars, rake the what’s left of last autumn’s leaves, and phone for another job interview. As the currents of the sky bring a sprinkling of rain and the new greens grow a bit more, the currents of daily life also sprinkle with struggles for which we grapple for solutions and a chance for breathing easier.
And the evening finds daylight filtering through the dust in the breeze, casting reds and pinks across the stretched clouds for one more glance out the window to the gift of a painted sky and a sigh that we’ve forged through to settle into rest, a rest that cat does best.
Dusty, breezy daysSheri Edwards
dapple red and pink the skies;
sunset stirs the cat
1131 days of posts in a row
For a bit on the writing process, see What Else Day
Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts/Media Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker~~
Art from the Heart