Poetry Prose and Musings by GWS
Warm lazy afternoons in late summer
Hazy and tea-colored at the golden hour
Dragonflies dancing through the tall grass
While crickets hum contentedly
Air scented with summer earth
And hints of coming autumn rain
The world readying for sleep
Eagerly awaiting the slowing of things
-gws
How I love a blue-gray sky
Hanging heavy above a blue-green sea
Or a sky of vibrant summer blue
Filled with the white puffs of lazy clouds
How about the velvet blue of a midnight sky
Glittering with silver stars
The enchanted pastel painted skies of dawn
Dressed in pinks and sherbet oranges
Or better yet the jeweled-toned shows of sunsets at the closing day
Painted with deep reds and purples and burning oranges
The sky's moods are all so beautiful
-gws
The first spring rain falls from a darkened sky
Washing away the heaviness from the air
Bringing deliverance of spirit
Offering itself as balm for my weary heart
Through its steady patter beyond my open window
Petrichor rising to ground me
Cool and damp air greeting too hot skin
I close my eyes
Imagining my complete surrender to it
Making an offering of all that scars me
All that weighs so heavily on my shoulders
I welcome this renewal
This forgiveness
This peace
I invite this healing
Surrender to this gentleness
Allow this act of cleansing
Readying my world to reawaken
Readying me to bloom again
-gws
I'm not a morning person
But I love the Maxfield Parrish skies of dawn
Pink and purple watercolor brush strokes
Across a robin's egg blue sky
Golden light gilding every cloud in radiant luminescence
Pastel magic painted across the heavens
Suspending breath through awe
Arresting the rush and rattle of morning routines
With the beauty of nature's majesty
I will gladly pour a cup of coffee in the wee hours
If I get to enjoy a front row seat for such an art show
-gws
Gold, yellow, red
A carpet of leaves
It crunched beneath their feet
As they played in the light of the golden afternoon
Cheeks rosey and hair wild
Autumn had come
-gws
"It's Spring!" the little songbird sang, excitement trilling in her voice. "It is winter," groaned the sleepy sapling whose roots were enshrouded in icy soil. "But the sun is SO warm," whistled the songbird. "Yes, but the ground is still SO cold," creaked the sapling "Puff up, my small friend, and sleep with me a little longer. When my buds start to sprout, we will both sing a song of welcome for Spring." So the songbird tucked up into a nook in the saplings branches and together they hunkered down to wait for Spring to truly arrive. -gws
A little storm cloud wanted to be painted in the colors of dawn and so it stood in the sunlight, basking in joy. -gws (photo by me taken while waiting to grab my to-go coffee this morning.)
Vibrant yellow ginkgo leaves gilding the sidewalks in the tea-colored afternoon sunlight. -gws
The sound of rain is a special magic. It brings with it a sense of cleansing. It brings sweet air that demands to be inhaled as deeply as possible. The percussion something that can only be understood on a cellular level. It pulls us into the sound. Floating us in liquid song. Primal and holy. -gws
I speak with the wild wood whenever I visit its sacred canopy I speak with the wind as it dances through leaves, laughing in whispering movement I speak with the soft soil with its carpet of moss, needles, and dry leaves that soften my step I speak with the fluttering butterfly and the gliding hawk about the feel of the air beneath their wings I speak with the buzzing bee and the chirping cricket about hot summer days I speak with the crows about the enticement of shiny things I speak with the water about its affair with the moon I speak with the wildflower about its affair with the sun I speak with the stars about histories long forgotten by all but them I speak with the sapling about life returned, anew I speak with Nature about the wonder of her world I speak with the Universe about the wonderment in all things -gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 