Shoe story

Smooth shoes, slippery mud,

Makes fancy dancing in the street.

Cautious stretch, so you don’t get wet,

when water plays around your feet.

 

O my goodness! What’s that smell?

My foot stepped on what wasn’t mud.

Now the puddle’s my best friend,

rinsing of this shame in flood!

 

Step along, so clean above,

yet now my shoes speak of my slog.

What once shone shiny and so clean,

seem like friends of the neighbour’s hog!!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Add a moonbeam

Walking home alone at night, makes the familiar strange. In place of colours and detail grand, there ’s awkward forms that haunt the gloom. These daytime trees loom dark against the sky, and in the shadows creep things that seem to hide.

And then above, a beam springs out. A soft white light that hid behind a storm. It’s silver light spins webs of life upon the giant forms that loomed.  A glorious stream of sparkles now appear to paint the world as if surreal. And in the glow I smile.

Then I sense the humid air and with it fragrance sweet. The blossoms have opened up their hearts to share their beauty in the dark. It always is a grand surprise to meet a symphony at my door. I look around and wonder why the night has no encore!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Blind eyes

When living in the hills of Honduras, I know that steady rain drizzling down at night gives me very muddy water from the tap in the morning. Small things that shift my daily routines!

Tropical sun blazing as the morning unfolds, foretells that soon this day will shrivel my soul with heat.  Just one of the challenges that unfold in life as you drift closer to the equator.

It is interesting how our perception of natural things shift from one nation to another, or even one culture to another. Our realities vary!

Yet wounded feelings that flow from hasty words receive global recognition. They warn that I have apologies to make so as to guard what is precious. These crucial decisions must flow from a love for which we all long.

Then there are angry words that accuse and kill. These assaults violate trust and assail every soul. It still amazes me how fear incites all humanity to take death’s scythe to bed with them!

Why is it so easy to forecast consequences in our natural world and yet live with blind eyes in regard to that which binds us into the wonder of belonging?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

The rest of solitude

Fluorescent white, catches light as waves crash gently on the shore.

The dock is empty, the sky now gone, as stars seek room to light the gloom.

My heart is full, I rest in peace, the vast horizon faintly seen.

The days at end, there’s time to spend defining life by how I’ve been.

 

The flames leap high off to the right, a bonfire burns against the night.

It’s glow reflects in waves that swell, as they prepare to kiss the shore.

There is draw upon the eye, when in the darkness flame leaps high.

It is the way love’s call rings out, to kiss the many who live distraught.

 

I love the rest of solitude. The quiet space when thoughts can flow.

It also is a joy supreme to laugh with souls whose hearts are clean.

But more than all of these grand things, I love the space that lies between.

Your life that flows caressing me – captivated now by your identity!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Small things

Geckos – hiding at my door!

Waiting for my opening door to say ‘Come in!”

Chirping – larger sound than life.

Gecko’s unity – they tolerate me in “their” home.

 

Ants – they seem to migrate!

First invisible and then in armies round some crumb.

Motion – it’s so erratic!

They move half-crazed with no apparent destiny in mind.

 

Lizards – they flaunt their right to space!

With first a stare and then a bob, that says you’re peons ‘neath my gaze.

Fluid – they move like lightening!

You’d think that rockets propelled them from their resting place.

 

Small things – occupying space!

Each one unique yet always shifting life when they’re embraced.

Distractions – can be seen as blessings.

Beings just need reason to live humbly sharing space.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Season’s change

Heat, it hits you like a wave, and so I seek the shadows. I feel the easing of the sun, as from day to night I seem to run. Yet, shadows cling to trees and shrubs, and soon I must embrace the oven’s dare as cities seem to shatter trees and barren black top breeds.

Cold, it wraps me in its hands that burn. I shield myself in wool and fleece, as I step within its white embrace. It brings the shivers out to play and scares my toes as frosty needles pierce! I plough through crystals glowing bright, and see the fire in the sky yet sadly heat has taken flight!

Seasons flow and then recede. This flux excites creation’s candour. Transitions bring encounters fresh, where once again I shift and rest. Then, bright green growth stirs up my heart. I soar alive in passion’s heat, then slowly watch it freeze in winters sleep.

Author – Bill Tidsbury