Good Morning Sunshine!
An Angel Happened Here.
The field is laid over with such soft purity now.
Boughs bend down seem to sigh with the weight of snow.
I am past the age of children but I kick the fluff up anyway.
The season is not serious yet, with heavy wetness.
Perfect the cold, when your bundled right. I wait.
Snowbirds in flight across a gold and pink sky.
A rabbit comes out as if I am not there. I hold still.
Daring not to breath, for the moments it takes to simply see this.
He or she bounds away, I must have given it a fright.
There is no sound here, I am in the middle of the woods,
The path not too long, but long enough to reach serenity.
I fall gently back to leave an angel here. No one will know but me.
The child I was now walks beside me, I wink!
Pejj Nunes
10/25/2021
Dear Snow Angel … all your posts are a heartwarming experience π
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Thank you! I love knowing that! Even if they are an experience of the way the morning has begun? LOL. But I thing its ok that blogs are like that. I think of writers like Earnest Hemingway, and what it would have been like to write The Old Man And The Sea. Picaso___ To know that life is lived not so differently by any of us. That like today it is raining now…we all eat and slip and go to the bathroom, have favorite drinks and foods, the basic things we do. The rituals of living life, or patterns we fall into. And when we break out of this mode, it may be as a splash of color! Something fun! A pivotal moment a great thought! What is it about the writers mind that drives him or her to paint with stories and impart things to others? The desire to help facilitate something important or just fun. To bring a trill or chill to the bones? It all will trigger a reaction.
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I let life happen. I will post my own writings sooner or later. For now, I’m just exposing myself to others, being a naked soul here π
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LOL! Not so bad when you really think about it____. No one is the only one in the world to think or be as they are. It’s more gregarious or out going to share who you are, and enlightening to observe. One’s own brand of being. I think what is there to really lose in sharing bits of life? Is it the desire to say as Britt-Marie says in Fredrick Backman’s wonderful book of that title. Britt-Marie was here! I also would like to be like the grandmother in My Grandmother asked me to tell you she is sorry! A delightful , funny book, most most human the characters. Also Backman’s. The grandmother is wonderful!
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