Snowy skies followed us,

asking the hard questions,

expanding our lungs faster with laughter,

increasing energies,

sharp-focused on persevering through

the deep brush,

miles to go before reaching the bridge

between foreign languages of

harp songs singing

our souls responsibilities,

and the solar lexicons of mirth,

secrets of dove and quail feathers

awaiting the smile, your smile,

spring’s honeybee rebirth.

On Tradition

Aus Gott wird man gebor'n, in Christo stirbet man. //////////////// Und in dem heil'gen Geist fängt man zu leben an.


"If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much space." - anonymous




Vingettes Of A Memoir

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