Dandelion freckles

Brilliant freckles on the lawn;

glowing yellow, bright and fun.

Children love to pick and hold

common weeds that are so bold!

 

Soon the brilliance has been snuffed;

brightest colour now white fluff.

As the breezes flick and play,

little seeds just float away.

 

Cycles fill my world with zest.

Colours fade but seeds then sprout.

As I shift and dance in flight,

hope dreams big in fresh delight.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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The Wind

When the wind sweeps its fingers through my hair

I feel the brush of distant fields.

It wraps me in the scent embrace

of things I still hold dear.

 

It draws my mind to clover fields

and strolls beneath an open sky.

It soothes my mental chaos with

the scent of pine that looms above

while settling into peace.

 

It paints upon the canvas of my heart,

such scenes of love and aromatic joy.

They sweep me up to mountain peaks.

The cool brisk wind that sings and roars,

as height’s majestic view unfolds

beneath my overhanging toes.

 

It teases memories of another wind

I’ve felt within as spirit soared.

A sweeping lift, that opens sights

of things I’ve dreamed but never seen.

I shift perspective as I rise

as singing swirls of whispered joy,

births tantalizing life.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Unplanted roots

I dug a plant up with a  spade,

I made a hole, I marked a  grave.

The plant though whole is now forlorn.

It’s lost it’s place beneath the sun!

When planted deep – I saw its leaf.

A perfect form all green and bright.

I dug it up, and saw it’s source

Its roots where white yet bathed in dirt.

I sensed perfection of design.

I stood amazed – all parts complete!

I then had insight from Spirit’s brush,

the plant though whole was on death row!

We all have context, mark our space.

We sense our individual parts intact.

Yet still we wander dying dry,

not grasping that, my roots need place.

When I depend on life that flows,

from  sources deep yet veiled, unseen,

I draw my life up deep within

then bless with fruit, as I laugh and grin.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Oh so free

Small parrots, loud parrots, flocking declare-

“we are the owners of all that is air!”

If life could be measured only by sound,

then surely their claim

would be their’s all year round!

 

Small lizards, fast lizards sitting in sun.

lying in pleasure  except when they run!

If life’s delight could tolerate heat,

then all of my memories

could be sampled still sweet!

 

Small child, bright child, swings unaware,

Singing so blissful without any care.

If all of my focus can dance oh so free,

then sparkles aplenty

will caress those like me!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Fresh surprises

Frogs that croak and echo loudly,

such a raucous trumpet noise,

in the evening as the breeze soothes –

reflection’s time to be alive.

 

Crickets singing, chorus playing,

Fills the air as mosquitos buzz,

Trees that rustle, whispering sweetly,

bringing evening’s fresh surprises.

 

Peace envelopes, spirit dances,

as quiet pirouettes to please.

Life bubbles up releasing stresses

as mystery sings hope’s pregnant change.

Author – Bill Tidsbury