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river-tree-whispers.blogspot.com

River-Tree Whispers: May 2015

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Sunday, May 10, 2015. Boy Dog. Woods. On our twenty acres the back fence kept farmer Jones' turkeys on his place most of the time. Togo was the first dog I remember. He got old before I knew anywhere else besides home, school, church and cousins. Oh, there were trips to town shopping at Tipton's and a Christmas movie too. Cold nose, black. Togo, brown Chow friend. Sticks and creek and woods we run. Turkeys were too slow.

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River-Tree Whispers: January 2015

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Friday, January 16, 2015. Song of Predawn Space. Mornings I come back. Choose my place and my day starting in sound before solid. Permeates my being, my space when the window is still open. You know? Like the life spirit of a new shore. When awakening is still silent. Listen. Song of Predawn Space. Slow the pull from speed in peace. Retake and slip, and rake the sleep. From bright to fog returning faint. Open book, yet half unwritten.

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River-Tree Whispers: July 2014

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Thursday, July 10, 2014. May not of understanding, but feeling tells- and Light.). Sunlight dots the forest floor. A leaf brightens to emerald and fades in a wink. The scent of wood reduced to earth since my father was a thought. Time stops . by rest off the trail. Flits quick, a phantom shadow gives away the now-gone bird. Not seen, not heard. Grasshoppers from the pasture for her hatchlings somewhere west. 2014 Ardi Keim 7/10/14.

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River-Tree Whispers: Song of Predawn Space

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Friday, January 16, 2015. Song of Predawn Space. Mornings I come back. Choose my place and my day starting in sound before solid. Permeates my being, my space when the window is still open. You know? Like the life spirit of a new shore. When awakening is still silent. Listen. Song of Predawn Space. Slow the pull from speed in peace. Retake and slip, and rake the sleep. From bright to fog returning faint. Open book, yet half unwritten.

river-tree-whispers.blogspot.com

River-Tree Whispers: Spirit Flight

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Thursday, November 20, 2014. Lone eagle above the Temple. Not soaring, but with direction and purpose. I join in the flight. Eagle racing winter wind. Prairie, rooftops, lake ice white. Lone spruce trail of autumn walkers. Long wait for Spring. Books and thought of inner measure. Long the time and little space. Till joining now in spirit flight. And leave these shoes to race. 169; 2014 Ardi Keim. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

river-tree-whispers.blogspot.com

River-Tree Whispers: Forest Secrets

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Thursday, July 10, 2014. May not of understanding, but feeling tells- and Light.). Sunlight dots the forest floor. A leaf brightens to emerald and fades in a wink. The scent of wood reduced to earth since my father was a thought. Time stops . by rest off the trail. Flits quick, a phantom shadow gives away the now-gone bird. Not seen, not heard. Grasshoppers from the pasture for her hatchlings somewhere west. 2014 Ardi Keim 7/10/14.

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River-Tree Whispers: July 2013

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Sunday, July 14, 2013. Survival - The Bombing. Lest I forget. Or should I? A man then, and now. How can I? Reach back to that lifetime. But now. It is in my bones. In my blood. It’s in my cloud atlas. Survival - The Bombing. The feeling - response of emotion. Sudden recall the last flight. Two bombers above, but slower now. I feel it. Excitement. The power - that flight. Four engines, doubled. Sensation. Almost to tears so full.

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River-Tree Whispers

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Thursday, March 05, 2015. A Stretch of Peace. Don't think too hard on this one. I didn't.). Starts with a mocking bird. Hides in a willow still weeping. Sun sets the table of inspiration. 8230; to horizons lost. On the thawing song. With its never-ending chorus of another. Like elastic- when rubber comes from. The family tree of memory. Or is it a whippoorwill. Notta lotta money tree. Master checks off on all particles. Of a sun fish.

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River-Tree Whispers: A Convening of Feathers

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And sometimes chuckles. Poetry. The Creative Mind. Humor. Soul inspired. Thursday, February 19, 2015. A Convening of Feathers. Long winters may shunt the creative, but a scene rich in symbol caught my eye last week. A Convening of Feathers. Three pheasants on snow and litter under brush. A crow squawks from their side a jump or two away. With sisters above on lamp and bare branch. Disturbed birds of china retreat by quick feet. Then with a call of oriental chime in low flight west. 169; 2015 Ardi Keim.