Its morning and a deep, Western river calls.  

I remember the dry grass' rush as I moved through.  Tan, dry as bone, showing the wear of the season, its roots growing deep grasping for soil, sustence, water, and stretching towards the sky on a fair Gallatin County afternoon.  Everyting is alive at times like this as you know, behind it all, a heart beats, drumming out the rythym of life.  Each beat, each little vibration is the one of many in a life well sown walking.  The rivers my place.

There are many, these things we call rivers, stretching from horizon to horizon linking the seas.  They are solid in their movement, tides rising, shifting in the sea of change which is growth in the infinite, the effervescent, the living, the known.  Where tides shift uncertainty lies yet the heart beats resonating deep, not reaching for but proving at life and its endless vibrancy.  Where its heart beats, life is born the world comes alive, as conciousness strikes and awareness hints at the scent of change as it wisps across the world and all of humanity.

Ahhh, the scent of change.  It has struck me a time or two; fresh, organic, lively, alive.  For we do not fear death, its maker, its marks, but rather embrace life, reaching for it, grasping for it, screaming out "I am alive" in response to its call.  Where do we find it,  in the drippy drops of melting ice cream.  In the gentle rolling tonque of a furry friend offering comfort.  I the gentle waves of a mothers voice whispering us to sleep.  In the comfort of the first lines of a favorite book that we know we are softly falling in for the day.  Encaptured like a womb in the presence of today we are amazed, mystified...how did it get so good.

In my river, my place, I know it well.  My heart beats steady as I am by its side, not racing, nor loggy, nor lost in expectation.  Rather knowing it, my place,  and finding my way without walking, almost floating through the ether.  Then, I see it, the river, and my belly is set.  My finrst cast unfurls.  I stride towards my day.

Eminating Liquid Notes

Some how music makes it all worthwhile.  Like a finished product or the end of a particularly glorious conversation, it is, in itself, the satisfaction.  Its like an unknown feeling you've only just found, and don't want to understand, because it might lose the mystery.  In each moment your mind dances with the cascade of liquid notes.  They echo so loud in the body and mind, as to seem to trade pure `tone for our raw unneeded flesh.  Each little bit of it seems to mix, giving vibrato for each unedited moment and the time, intermingling with the release of notes, ticks slow as each chord becomes the great machine that stops it all completely at once.  Its hard to explain how it all works.  Maybe the rythym is connected to the undercurrent of time and so, we lose focus on what seemed so dear and give ourselves over to the moments of the momentously inspired.  Where it goes we know not yet we feel and at times start to grasp at it only to let it slip through our fingers like a surge of autumn wind.  But maybe its good, after all, nailing it all. down is injurious to the experience so we listen as it gathers and pushes the base of our belly through the top of our skull.    But also, notes can seem to fight with all things natural, engaging with some shocking rhythm that makes it hard to do anything but feel your belly shudder.  But that is not for all.  Instead we ride the wave of the ever-changing archipelago, bounding between beat and lilting note before leaping off the edge of a soaring sonata.  And how it soars.  Eagle wings and feathers in flight.    High cliff diving and the first word spoken after loves declaration.  Where does it come form where does it go.  Some sacred place.  A place where grow things that mimics the horn of plenty.  That is art.  The unknown seldom felt because something fresh was smeared on  a page, gathering and embracing itself before being drawn off into the unknown and distant but not so distantly unknown, each word before the next evaporating into the ether. yet each, together, creating life, mystery, and the story of the endless forever.  Words and notes make up the extant swirl that awakens as we begin to feel without seeing.  Gradually in gathering we find our completion but it takes time and effort and not to little work but what else is worth it except the emanation of emotion from the invisible that gathers energy and a little thought and in beauty as in truth and honesty will remains till the end of time, and all time beside.  As is a will.

Eminating Spring

All I think of lately is the hard times and the silent proud blind girl who gave me sight through the strength of a Rocky Pine Rain.  All the war made a mess, to the point that I'm dulled by its presence.  But up sprung the green before the lamp lit of light in my brain.  The appearance of an Aloe that offered salve by a River.  The scent as the waft of Rocky Mountain Female Pine, tree deep in the autumn when sap oozes from fissures fixed safe deep in its side exorbing my pain  Ugly on the outside yet loved deep within for wedding of waxen pine that protects like fine rain.  Like a wooden umbrella for radioactive rain ,or, maybe, the little girl who smiled when she saw me, happiness in her voice me feeling the same.  Nothing like I really what I give to be heard. Is simple really stupid on the outside or the loss of pretense allowing us to grow from a child  to the adult that we see with the ones I love beside me in true.  Ah humor.  Where I’m found, planted like a stake Under that tree that shook me book in my hand, pen shredding lines of paper with words that I see from my brain So we sit deep in winter, creating spring, emanating from our bellies life and pure warmth to wax and to wane.  Love.  Life.  Love.  Life. And. All.  I scream to the Autumn, sing to the rain. Love.  Life.  Love.  Life.  And.  All.  Love Life . And. All.  Shhhh.  In life I’m found.  In truth I’m born.  In love I’m bound.  Pureness in joy.  Simple Love.  Excelsior.

Sunset Patina

A bold patina kisses the skyline inventing the broad brusher stroke of color called Sunset.  Man, it falls in as the sky embraces it, that wonder an experience found on the Naples Gulf Coast Pier, the Sun, smiling down on us, everyone.  Maybe it's not just the Sun.  Maybe the moon singing us dreamy through our sleep tight night, each memories coallenscence the refraction of moonbeam protected by the many little bright lights hanging there with it. Maybe it's the water, it's rumbling rushing, it's rushing torrential cascade, that kisses with downy brush strokes our cheek the same as summer rain.  Maybe it's its smiling, laughing, chatting gayly, hoping to continue it's smooth foamy rush.   The starlight rains from the sky, as many cascading raindrops falling to earth as pure conciouness, each one, when falling ignites it's manyhued tramping into with the past.  Maybe it's the sifted dirt, standing stoic from stone, steady as the earth revoluting and revolving and throwing off all mar to dissolving into the universe, converted to good.  There are many, there are few, and the multitudes surging and slowly ascending towards a neabound heaven we find in the curious, the unknown, the existential.  Whereby does heaven rise?  In all, Son.  In All.

Where stars collide, a new world is born.  It the essence of the world.  Nova.  Supernova.  Super, Nova.  Remember that.  Remember when interest pervaded the stars.  When you picked up a book and read and found interest in the world you've found.  The little things that matter.  The way colors change in the galactic, the red glory, blue flame, orange burning, yellow light, white heat.  The way in origination we find a world expanding, from mere carbon and light to the many brighter wandering.  Whereby did it happen that we forgot.  That we thought we were large and, in doing so, forgot when we were small.  Where in our guilt for lies we trade inter for pain disguising our masked disgust with a nod and our anger.  Where the crow flies, we are followed in our silence and driven mistrust we listen to openess.  No one will die.  That's not in the cards we play, though we play our hand in pride, in our need for recognition our ego built hatred has been found bereft of pride.  So convinced in past dwelling dream is what we are given not knowing yet acceptance in the beauty we explore.  There it is,. Check Out the Center.  Something may be.  In amusing, greatness may be found in the blanket of the unknown.

Whereby in my safety I have found you.  Speak to me, speak to friends, whereby does my protection lay.  A river beside in calling, dancing with the Deer, singing with the songbird, talking with my friend, the bear, talk of them, in time you remember, they forget, not the bear but the many in surrounding you who scare name them give them gifts, help them grow, Love them.  Baby, you are not suffering, think if you were, would he not, you are safe.  Baby I  know you are unsteady, they are worried of you, think, if you lost that which you love would you not run to to it.  Try to trust, you and they, there truly is love around the corner.  Believe in the depth of love and you and smile.  Remember, Beauty is Calling.🤫

Kissing the DoorFrame and Passing a Note to Many Friends

Where does love weave.  In grace eternal.  Beside a woman I love and have known since youth.  Whereby beside in silence calling, screaming to see her to know her feelings calling.  In truth, I am me, Andrea.  Your name is not man.  It is lovejoybountybliss in the forever of my ❤️, beating in rapturous calm, explaining away the heavens only to return to earth again, understand the distant beyond only to return to you.  You may think it's timing or maybe chance but you are simply cute, in building I speak asking for protection as they rain, rein, in the holy in delving simplicities call.  In your worry I know you care.  Sshhh Is not caress be to care, not the exhilaration of the luxuriant inscent, the beauty in love the soft rapturous kiss of the doorframe, your friend love in calling friends in grace love at home.  Baby I know all comfort will come.  I know your smile ignites the starlight heavens eyes in passing in secret note sharing with you baby pass a ❣️ picture in grace for me in place you speak to know your hearts need and please please please.... Speak to Me.