Age and the myriad features we associate with it, casually visit, live here

My woe is to complain under the burgeoning strain overloading my being

Tempted to over emphasise with animalistic like cries bemoaning my life

Instead I delight in the sounds that accompany the sunshine, kids playing

My cat on high exploring in the garden, foraging, increasing his knowledge

Of his surroundings, butterflies surround him, bold orange striking black

T.I crouches as if to attack, butterflies zig zag  there and back, I laugh

Watching as a stalker would, animals at play how can I not feel good

Ignore the pain inspired by Zyp, an example of life connections, this is it

Green leaves wind and trees sunshine lording over these summer pictures

Temporary fixtures, enjoy the moments nature sends to us, unless dying

Shut up don’t make a fuss, there is some one worse than us, some where


  1. As I started reading this I thought of the two young squirrels I watched play/wrestle on my deck this morning, how the blue jays start squawking and congregating at the sound of the birdseed hitting the deck, how I see so many little birds pecking at stray seeds scattered by the bigger birds’ ferocious onslaught, how the sunlight sparkles in the trees in the background…

    And then I see you’re thinking of me too! Nature is a wonderful balm for the soul, a reminder that we’re all part of the all-encompassing web of life that came long before us and will remain long afterward, including the little pieces we’ve spun from our own lives.


    1. enjoyed your poetry when describing your morning, I feel like I needed our interaction today and benefit greatly from our connect, blessings

  2. Isn’t the Internet a wonderful thing? I don’t get out & about like I used to, so I’m thrilled to find I can truly connect with a few people online – and it’s always a surprise to feel that connection with someone I’d never meet in “real life”.

    Knowing you has taught me a lot about a side of life that’s usually not visible to me – your posts have been a real education for this sheltered middle-class white girl.

    Perhaps that’s our purpose as writers: to show our fellow humans our particular personal worlds, so they can see how those that seem so different from us are still so much the same as we are, that our similarity as humans is far greater than our differences in nationality, color, or creed, which seem trivial in comparison.

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