Category: <span>Spirituality</span>

Ever changing beauty.

Morning fog has washed her clean.

Pale blue skies skim steel blue waters

as Humpbacks spout along their way.

Swallows slices silky sky

while flowers dance and sway.

Why am I so blessed this day?



Like the towering tree.

Many round rings.

Deep tap root.

Twisted trunk.

Branch hanging from limb.

I move with the wind


Tribes moved to her rhythm

But the dancing has stopped

Mother Nature obscured

Tribal hearts cry

Spirit ancestors

Let us dance again


Today is her birthday

No not Ms. America
My Mom
Born in Eire
Turned 96
Her Mother told her long ago....
"You're so sickly you'll live to be 90"
Worked in London 1945
Only building left standing for 3km
She danced
Upstairs ballroom, downstairs Irish
Seems the Irish were always downstairs
Crossed the Atlantic in 1954
Had a room far down the stairs
Dragged the pram up those stairs
For seven days
Baby needed fresh air
Had good intentions
Learn your timestables
Do the dishes
Get a paper route
Fireworks fill the sky


Easy to become one.

Not so easy to be one.

Unconditional love is required.

Arrows to the heart inspired.

Surrender is mandatory.

You hope……

those stories.

those hugs.

those laughs.

those checks.

those words of encouragement…helped them on their journey.

In the end.

Only a Father knows the truth in his soul

As arrows dissolve

In a heart full of love


On a trail above the sea

He is walking toward me

Limping but determined in his old brown coat

A steady pace

Step by step

Limp by limp

Bright brown eyes meet mine

To busy moving forward to do much else

Frayed green Frisbee in his mouth

Young pup in an old brown coat


Goldmine abandoned.

Hatchling too.

Wind swept sycamores.

Leaves cover ground.

Swirling wind in the void.

Exposing long buried woe.

Not loved, No love but dog.

But love found again.

A Mother Lode.

Then a dark moonless night.

Not even a glimmer of gold.

When the sun rises we can see.

Rejoice, Rejoice.

The gold is always in the mine.

Just look inside…..behold.



Walking the fields.

3 year old lad lags far behind.

Gently holding a flowering branch.

Pure intent.

Watching, Watching.

Vibrant color moving across leaves.

Absorbed in the moment.

He does not interfere.

Watching, Watching.

Ladybugs on branch.

Child’s fascination.




Beauty of the moment.

Watching, Watching.


Swallows streaking.

Silently swooping.

Sweeping side to side.

Ballerinas without shoes.

Dance in dimming rays.

Silently above green grasses.

Acrobats, Angels…

Dancing through the trees.

Caressing the Earth’s curves.

Picking off insects mid-air



Wet, cold evening light.

Glasgow 1926.

Mother gone.

Father liqueured.

Two small boys.

Tommy is the eldest.

6 years of age with brother of 4.

In charge of the house.

Beaten like his mother.

Two small boys.

Small in stature.

Barefoot on cold streets.

Red mane of hair.

He learned to fight.

Two small boys.

Military service not soon enough.

Brothers in the Scottish Brigade.

Needed boots in the tropics.

Had to fight.

Had to kill.

Two small boys.

Force marched in the heat

Like his mother being beat

They learned some Japanese

Two small boys

206 were captured

Toiling in the mines

Brothers separated in hell

Two small boys

Only the strong survived the streets of Glasgow

Fists & cunning won the day

Only 6 survived the prisoner of war camp

One small boy