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Posts Tagged ‘Musings’


Solitary cicada debutant

calling for a lover.

You will die a virgin.

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Every eve we take a walk.
The time when dog and I and nature talk.

With Plover’s song and bullfrog’s honk.
With rabbit’s graze and beaver’s swim,
rippling still pond’s mirror.

A bright full moon smiles down upon someone somewhere to the southeast,

suspended between the waning blue of day and indigo of night.

Occasional cicadas click-rasp in the grass.

Rose gold cloud punctuates the sky’s transition to the north,

and the dark, dark, green indistinguishable trees surround us in panoramic horizon.

Solitary ephemeral firefly lights arc impending night.

My soul is quiet.

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https://scitechdaily.com/physics-mystery-behind-coffee-ring-formation-uncovered/

I couldn’t figure out how to get this to you, Marina Kanavaki directly, but I thought you’d be interested, as it explains the science behind the watercolor art at which you excel.

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I did not realize the depths of my wife’s love

until she spent hours beside my hospital bed

while all I had strength for

was to sleep and recover.

Or when she was there

While I relearned how to do every little thing.

Or when she bathed me when I couldn’t.

I didn’t realize the depths of her love

when she attended to bodily functions I’m embarrassed to mention.

Or when she cut up my meat at the table because at the time I lacked the capacity to do so.

Or when, like a mother asking a child, “What’s Wrong?”

She wondered at my tears of frustration

at not healing fast enough,

or my weeping in gratitude at doing something simple for the first time

this time around,

like moving a toe.

I didn’t realize the depths of her love

until I experienced all the myriad ways she cared for me,

when I couldn’t care for myself.

And now, when she gets even more angry at me for smiling during her lecture

for doing something so incredibly stupid,

it’s because

I realize the depths of her love.

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We think ourselves immortal,

until we are not.

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Weatherboy says, “Still snowy”.

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My Valentine


I spent the first 33 years of my life being prepared and then looking for you–my one and only.

Never imagining how good our next 33 years of life with you was going to be after all this time…

This year has been especially trying for us, only because life has laid me low.

But you have risen to the challenge.

I don’t deserve you.

And I am full of wonder that you had chosen to love and continue to love a bumbleton like me.

Did I ever think I would experience such depth of love and kindness as you have shown me?

No, and that is why, weeping,
I can only offer you my shattered proud heart with my contrite spirit.

If it pleases you,

live with me forever,

and be my valentine.

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The nature of pride, and it’s ruin, is to think, speak, or act as if oneself were better than others.

The nature of humility and its salvation, is the thought, speech, and act to become better than one was.

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It would not be appreciated,

if you were not with me

to enjoy it.

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Rarely,

the time of day

the position of the forest leaves and trees

and the light of the rising sun

passing through something man-made

combine to create art

by happenstance,

that is . . .

ephemeral.

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