Amidst the over-furnished room, beside a drawer named “Junk,” atop a pile of unread books, sits a box labeled “Desk Stuff” that accumulates the odds and ends of a life.
Amidst the under-furnished space of the mind, atop the frontal lobe of a brain, sits a basket of fragments— bits of disorganized memories, pieces of disordered ideas, reams of unfinished dreams.
A miscellany of incomplete puzzles, unlearned lessons, and unsolved riddles saved for rainy days, sits beside the hippocampus, collecting dusty cobwebs.
At the moment of departure, where do the perplexed and befuddled go? Do they find uncluttered space and regain a neatly organized mind? Is that heaven?
When lightning strikes on the horizon and the world is visible in silhouette I am humbled.
When the coyote pauses and stares as if he knows me, I feel awe. I feel wonder, respect and just a little fear, fearful that he sees the darkness within my soul.
When the sunlight is filtered through the leaves just so, the universe is revealed.
Sentinel quail on roof, calling it's mate jackrabbit feeding on grasses crows chatting “wonder what's new?”
Cool morning air still, clear blue sky. Clover and tomato seedlings struggling into life.
Shovel and rake propped against block wall, waiting for someone to pick them up. On a farm there’s never a shortage of work just a shortage of labor and motivation.
Warm rising sun casts long shadows in golden light doves mourning call joins the morning chorus.
Desert Dweller 