the eyes of your heart enlightened...

The voice of one crying out in the wilderness..."All of God's people who hear the call [of God] are commissioned by God to answer that call wherever it takes us. There are many places of injustice in our world that are waiting for the Good News of the gospel. It is not necessary to have anyone's permission for any of us to address these needs."
-Mary L. Mild

i live in a state of poetry...

I live in a state of poetry...a literal and figurative song between discontent and happiness.  Days configured with rivers of dripping sweat, astronomical high tides, and equally astronomical heat indexes.  Sing-song.  Sing-song.  Feel the beat of the southland.  Hear the myth of the flat land...a past that languishes at noontide to resurrect itself for libation at moonrise.  Where one can travel a mere mile for transport through the thin veil of past, present, or future.  Where yesterday slaps the seeker in the face like a surfer’s high-tide wave with its third finger in the air--daring you to deny it.  It's a land whose pain begs remembrance, where every breeze talks of yesterday.  And if that past repeats itself one time too many on any given day, one can always order up a nice heaping helping of denial.  And then take a nap.  

Archibald Rutledge

The Compass

Regard this compass:

How veeringly the needle turns,

Yet ever northward yearns,

And at the last will come

Fatefully home.

Even so my love

Resembles

The needle; for it turns to you

And trembles.

              Life's Extras

                        Archibald Rutledge 



http://southcarolinaparks.com/hampton/introduction.aspx

North Santee at Hopsewee

Helen von Kolnitz Hyer

Santee Lullaby

Funny little furry things are creeping out of sight,

Santee, Santee,

Funny little fuzzy wings are folded for the night,

Santee, Santee,

Little stars are showing, Honey, let's be going

Fore the big, bull alligator tries to take a bite

of me-ee

- excerpt from "Santee Lullaby"

http://www.poetrysocietysc.org/poetry.html

Folly River

Photo Credit:  Pat Hay

sea of glass...

The Folly River

High tide in September, and it's a sea of glass. I do suppose the most beautiful tides are those that tip-toe in with the waxing moon...the surface so perfect it looks like a just-iced cake. It creeps over the hardly ever flooded bits of marsh in total silence.

And. It. Is. So. Perfect.

Sometimes that waxing moon leans over and dips its smile low to the earth and does what the moon does best.  It reflects.

recalculating...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took...the dead end.

Recalculating.

It should absolutely be the worst time of my life.  My bank account is less than glam, my dance card is empty, and it's taking me forty-damn-forevers to do something as simple as order blinds for my windows. One could ask, "Exactly how do you plan to buy anything, finish anything, or plan for anything whilst engaged in the dance of employment limbo with that less-than-glam bank account?"

But, I do.

And the funny thing about that "I do" is that it works magic.

Yes, it should absolutely be the worst time of my life.  But, it's not!

Because, you see, the good thing about my dead end is I know for sure I can't go down this road any longer. Maybe you could say I won the lottery.  How many people get a second chance to turn around or put it in reverse and back up? Dead Ends are a gift.  On your way out you get to look at the scenery and see things that weren't quite apparent on your way in.  You get to say thank you and a decent goodbye to the people who opted out. Oh, and those windows I don't have covered.  Do you know what it is like to look out on the world with an unencumbered view?

Recalculating.