Present

Words lose their meaning
Thoughts become intentions
Mind merges with heart
Silence is prayer

Each second a lifetime
Empty and full
Breath and spirit
Are the same

On the trees
On the mountains
On the seas
They are the same

A world lives and dies
On the breath of the wind
The spirit moves in all
Everything is one

A Scented Recollection

I’m not too fond of roses

but I have a memory

of the pale pink kind

growing near our kitchen door

and how, on a summer evening

when I took the dog out for

his last pee of the day

that pale pink scent would creep,

wisp-like, around the gable end,

carried on a soft breeze,

and enfold me; and it seemed

in the stillness of that moment,

that a corner of my heart

would be filled

with a sense of peace

We sleep
some may even rest
while others sleepless
lie thinking about
tomorrow

We listen
to the silent streets
proclaiming our lives
are indoors now, and now,
but not tomorrow

We live
in this, our moment,
as all we have,
our precious now, is now
not tomorrow

We open
to the what and how
our lives are this 
knowing each day, today,
is not tomorrow