I love the
As I reach out to stroke it to thank it for its gift, it cools my
fingers. I assert you've never really felt the
until you've felt it running down your back (as Paul McCartney may have
As I drive down this forty five degree steeply winding mountain road,
low gear taking the strain from always required braking,
this rustic bucolic scenario into a gorgeous subtle watercolor
I'm driving in a watercolor and I love this
Thank You glistening road for meandering up to meet me. Thank You wispy
mists for coyly hiding and revealing these pastel hills like a new
bride. Thank You celestial light for bursting forth shining everywhere
all around me and this scene reminiscent of a Japanese
garden. Thank You towering pines and oaks for softening these warm
to a drizzle. Thank You water from the sky for
my soul and washing this land.
Thank You glistening road for loving me. I love you too. Thank You
wispy mists for loving me. I love you too. Thank You celestial light
for loving me. I love you too. Thank You towering pines and oaks for
loving me. I love you too. Thank You water from the sky for loving me.
I love you too.
Empowered both by Life's love of me and by my love of Life, I now
notice it's two
not one who
this watercolor. There's its artistcreator,
of this watercolor as the world which shows up physical and measurable.
There's its artistspace in which this watercolor as the
physical and measurable world shows up.
But say there's a watercolor and there's no one here to drive in it. Is
there a watercolor?
I'm here to drive in it. I'm here driving in a watercolor.
That's my calling as a writer, as a human being listening for