Looking out over the canal through a stand of bullrushes. Their brushes, firm and thick. If you grab one, your fingers will sink into their spongey hearts filled with fibrous feathery fluff On the opposite bank golden fields rise behind forest green shrubs. A field ready for harvest.

Like a Moses among
The bullrushes,
We find ourselves cast
Upon the waters
Of unnamed streams.

Cradled;
We find rhythms
And meaning among
The eddys that carry us
And solace in the play
Between light and leaf.

#naturewriting #naturemusing #oldheron #nature #humancondition

A blade of grass beaded with spring rain. A moment in time; but whose time? Your's, mine, the blade of grass, the beads of rain, the scurrying beetle beneath the grass, the oaks and alder who watch over this spot? We all experience it, but how so differently; this universal now, that has gone forever.

So soon
The bramble
Petals fall

The dandelion
Still holds
On to time.

#naturewriting #iillusionsoftime
#oldheron #zen #Impermanence

Poems and prayers
Are best when they are
Written on water.

#thewaysoftheheart #poetry #writing #oldheron #zenish