Morning Commute

It’s a slow dispersal, like raindrops down a window pane. Pausing, as if in thought. Joining and branching, then disappearing.

Scattered, like a rain that grows with sleepy reluctance.

Then a rush, the storm that finally thunders its presence. Winds and howls that stop you in your tracks, and clouds that impede your journey.

Every morning, a yawning procession.


Morning thoughts on the bus ride to work. 






Weary wings from a long journey home. Rest and rejuvenate on the scent of blossoming life.


 A bit overwhelmed with work and life these days, so a short post and a recent painting. Two weeks until vacation.


Whisper sweet words upon your blank canvas. Fill it with the colours of your thoughts.

Speak with broad strokes of life, sharp, angular, with sweet trailing ends that flutter towards the edge.

Mist a perfume of melodies, gold and silver, to harmonize in twining waves, origins and eternity.

Place it on your wall, display it for others to see, share the warmth of life that emanates from the core of your heart.


Processes, purposes, and all the canvases we have created.


We met twice in that moment.

Once as our eyes registered. Twice as our souls resonated in waves that we could not, at the time, comprehend.

It was only as we walked away, lonely souls forever lost in the crowds, that we realized what we had missed.

Do you sometimes wonder what would have happened if you had stopped to say hi?

Earth’s Poetry

   Rain falls, Earth’s poetry. Creating bursts of brightness and colour beneath its rhythmic cadence. Life.

   It is, at times, disrupted by unruly winds that force it against the ground in pounding roars, building until it escalates beyond the gates of blood and bone.

   But eventually it settles. The darkness thins to a sighing wisp that, for now, can float free of the weight it once bore.


   April is National Poetry Month. I don’t write poetry, but I do love to read it. So here is a short tribute to its beauty.