Yesterday: Grey Sky & A Walk Around the Reservoir

The morning began with a grey canvas, a hushed tone–

inviting color. As the day progressed, the clouds unrolled to reveal patches of blue. The grey clouds became white.

This afternoon the sky has opened, fluffy clouds amble by. I hear a squirrel running this way. I look up. He stops. He's searching for treats, rustling through the leaves. And then I hear another. After some time passes, I continue walking. Dragonflies whizz by. I stop, standing still enough to see them hover. They zoom on by. I continue walking.

**

grey sky

a blank canvas

swirled in a splash–

green trees

**

grey sky–

a blank canvas

waits for you

**

grey sky

nature's canvas–

look! do you see!?

Sunday Walk

Near dusk—at top center, a half slice moon spills out to the gentle blue sky. Birds tweet. I crane my head to look up as if I'm upside down; I stay that way taking in the Tree—branches above me splay outward—strong motherly arms revealing leaves brittle with winter that appear as white lace and dried feathers silhouetted against the mauve and silver blue sky at the horizon. As I bring my head back up, I see the other trees—tall bamboo, oaks, pines, and juniper shrubs—I don’t want to leave. I’ve ceased walking. But I must continue. All is still this Sunday, drenched in the light of the moon and blue sky.

Afternoon Walk

An afternoon appointment sent me on a brisk walk through the streets from work to the doctor’s office. I was going to drive but thought it was walkable, and if I kept a very quick pace, I’d make it on time.

I slipped my headphones on, turned the iPod Touch on and began listening to the audio. I don’t usually listen to anything through headphones when I walk, but today I was in the mood, and I could still hear the cars and other noises. I wasn’t completely shut out.

It was a quick visit. Leaving the doctor’s office, I thought how nice it was to receive good news for a change—or rather news that wouldn’t lead to a follow up appointment; and then several more follow up appointments. I left the office with a slight worry shed from my shoulders and I walked back to work at a much slower pace, no headphones. I’ve walked this path many times. And as I looked up, down, and around, at the homes, the gardens, cars parked, men working, this is what I saw and this is what made an impression in that moment—a continuation of the little beauties in the world:

Walking back, inhaling the sun, little wooden birdhouses sit just outside the window—three in a row. Each with a heart for a doorway—a doorway for a heart.

On the cabled wires above sits a squirrel, looking down at her. Walking, walking—red and orange leaved confetti tossed on the pavement, glows in the sun.

She turns the corner after seeing pink blossoms scattered on the eucalyptus. A Great Oak is just ahead; two large connected roots reach up. She looks and looks and then sees the folds and nooks, the skin of the Oak, and right where the large roots meet, the image she sees is of large white angel wings. It takes her breath away and all of these little moments gathered here, were prompted to be written down because of the Oak and right before she pulls for the paper and pen, a black crow sneaks into the pine tree near her next turn and she smiles because he is friend to her, and it is as though he is also summoning her with his caw caw and the way he bends his head—to write it down and enjoy this day.