the grounds are white...

14 December 2017 12:00 AM

I want to live somewhere where it doesn't snow,
close your eyes and listen
birds singing, scraping the snow with their talons, fluttering, wing spurts, pecking at the twigs, searching,
close your eyes and listen
sunlight breaking through the clouds, the slant of the ray makes the beam BRIGHT, oh what fun it is to play...
cats hiding under the houses,
where are the rabbits
the squirrels are huddled near the tree trunk, their tails laid flat against their spine, flag half mast,
gray skies, a black bird flying, like a piece of dust, well, he IS that far away,
trees asleep, the pines smiling, they are aware all year round
snow in the bird nest , can't wait for next year when that nest is repopulated,
close your eyes and listen
there is a bell on the horse, his reins has a chain on them, does that jingling make him nervous, it would me, i.e., "What the _ _ _ _ is that?"  
Horses are aliens, loyal companions, but anything would be once you break its spirit ,
I take it out of the law
Blue Jay flying, the blue and white flash of those leaves a blur in my mind, Blue Jays know how to swim the horizons,
where are the seagulls now?
sandy beach the sand in-between my twisted banged-up toes, soothing heat,
heal me.

The monks are chanting... but who am I to creep closer to their abode, they do not like women, a system that puts women on a lower level, the basement, no I can't abide that, I prefer Sufism.