A long preparation for something that always happens: i.e., death.
A long preparation for something that always happens: i.e., death.
“Seek on high bare trails sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels” ― Bashō Matsuo
BTW poems and links to Barbara Turney Wieland
Poems ~ Stories ~ Thoughts ~ Compositions
In here and out there at the same time
Emotions before processing... thoughts behind a forming scene... lines straight from flawed filters.
Fueling your mind....
Creating art, poetry, and fiction.
Welcome back! —CC
Thanks a lot. It’s nice to cross words again.
You bet. I look forward to new b-jams.
My next door neighbor died relatively young about three years ago. When she told me she had cancer, she was quick to add, “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, tell me jokes instead.”
Ooops! I meant to add. She seemed to me prepared.
That’s sad and sweet. And it’s tough to remember, but: death is really another part of life.