From whence inspiration
A lottery prize
Buy enough tickets
Increase your odds
To make it happen

Conjured muse
Summons
A bearing down
A calling forth
To grind the spark

Often, silence
Seeking light
Hungering for more
Digging deep
Bumping into shadows

Slender pivots
Heralded new images
Energy ON
Minds in madness
The heart knows and responds

Internal engine purring
Inspiration, process, drive, product: Creativity
Lather, rinse, repeat

Too many people take the good in their lives for granted
Behaving in ways that imply
A belief that they deserve their blessings
Without actually pondering just why
They think the randomness of the universe
Accidents of birth
The preordained arrangement of genes
(Precise donor A mates with precise donor B resulting in self-deluded offspring C)
Should have bestowed upon them
Great hair, lovely cheekbones, high IQs, strong physiques
(Not to mention being born in the most powerful nation in the world
Instead of a back-street hovel in Bangladesh
Or the isolated frozen tundra in a far-flung corner of Siberia).

Too many people assume the mantle of entitlement
Thinking a bad day is one when their daughter fails to make show choir
Or where layoffs at Christmas will negatively impact a school bond issue
Or how unmatched metallics mar a cultivated pulled together sense of fashion
Unaware how petty their grievances come across
To those who have truly suffered
To those who have truly known pain and sorrow
To those desperately seeking a respite from their troubles
And never, not ever, finding it…

Oh, yes, the humanity!

I saw a rabbit.

It was curled into a tight little mound of gray fur and protruding ears: quiet, unmoving, lifeless. As I looked down where it lay on the grass, I felt a twinge of loss and sadness for this small animal that was now no more. Standing on our deck, I looked out at the hayfields and sloping hills in the distance, contemplating the cycle of life of all living creatures. We’re born helpless and defenseless, utterly dependent on others to survive. We struggle to master even such basic functions as eating, grasping and clasping objects (and others) for aid and for comfort. We scoot then crawl then hold ourselves upright, learning to walk, to talk, to communicate our needs, wants and emotions. Our lives have meaning through the passion of our pursuits. We must strive to make the best of what we have been given, if we’re lucky and if we’re paying attention to what is important, for one day it – and we – will be gone.

Rabbits, like this little fellow, follow a life cycle of their own, not so similar but not so different either, this one’s apparently cut short by any number of predators. His day had come. Whether animal or human, history or achievement, knowledge or nature, tradition or bounty, the passing of anything beautiful is to be mourned.

I lowered my gaze and was surprised to discover that he had not expired after all. His swiveled head was tilted upward and huge bunny eyes, wide and questioning, looked into mine. An unbroken alliance was formed at that moment for I believe we both realized the day of completion for each of our life cycles was yet to come. There was still time for dance and love and learning and laughter. And the promise of joy, always joy. Dangers and pitfalls do exist. They are all around us. However, we must take care and navigate our paths wisely. But if we are cautiously optimistic there is no reason why we can’t continue to enjoy green grasses of contentment no matter the view, no matter the barriers, no matter the skies.

I would like to live by the sea.
To contemplate
Knowing the roar (and the quiet) of expansive waters
In my everyday affairs.
Waves kissing the shoreline: blue, gray, seafoam green.
Sailboats. Salty breezes.
Watching gulls and pelicans
Frolic in the tide.
Luscious light and sound. Movement. Scent of ocean air.

I harbor romantic notions of a different life.
A quaint cottage, rustic but charmed.
Water on my horizon.
Neighbors and town folk, quirky yet sturdy. Solid.
Good people, just like anywhere.
My days spent in clarity
And purpose, if and when I want them to be.
Sometimes I yearn for the grit and sheen
Of another reality, an alternate existence.

With gauzy vision, however, I imagine
Someone, like me, along a rocky beach
(Or elsewhere)
Contemplating fields of corn, heavy with dew.
Cattle grazing on a sun-soaked hill.
Goats, chickens, barb wire fences. Grain bins.
Sunflowers, wild chicory.
Old barns
And hummingbirds in the spring.

Another dreamer who, like me, also dreams.

Allow for more ~
More joy, more pleasure.
Look. But also see.
There is much to be, to gather, to do.

This is our time.
Blossom and enjoy the life we have,
The life we choose to live.
Perspective, attitude, grace
All are under our control.

We are in charge of our own happiness.
Destiny: That’s ours to manage.
There is bliss to be had
In even just knowing this alone.

Daily Prompt: Blossom

A grassy bank
Blue sky overhead
Fluffy white clouds
Tall grasses swaying in the wind.

Teenage years
Always filled with angst.
Yearning, discovery
Sometimes pain and loss.

I remember lying there
Wondering about the world.
Idealistic brain babblings.
So sure of how things should be.

Trying to figure it out
‘Where do I fit in?’
And sometimes, that small voice:
‘Do I fit in? Do I belong?’

All these years later
I can still visualize that one particular moment.
So unaware of what was yet to come.
Considering this, the future is not so daunting.

Always, one foot forward.
What else are you going to do?

My father’s sawmill:
Lovingly built and nurtured
For more than fifty years.

He got into the business
Grudgingly, at first
From my mother’s dad.

Prostate cancer took Daddy from us
He’d lived a good life.
I miss him.

It’s sad that no one
Took over the mill.
No one to carry on his legacy.

So. We simply remember
With joy and with pride.

Daily Prompt: Apprentice