The Sun makes its great arc across the sky.

It’s satisfied with a background position,

And no one hardly bothers to offer thanksgiving to the Sun,

Too busy making something out of the clouds.

“That one looks like an elephant!”

“That one looks like a sycophant,

Conniving it’s way to seek us out like helpless sheep,

To see which one of us he could separate,

And steal our joy,

Kill us, or, even worse, otherwise destroy us as we yet live on.”

And we’ve chosen now to be terrified 

By a story of our own making.

And meanwhile

……The Sun.

-jenn

 The sky is full of stars in the morning.

They are turning.

They are swirling.

The light that spins from off of them

Is a dancing beam,

A team of wild horses

Pulling me apart,

Putting me back together again

To heal my heart,

My hands, my feet,

My fingers, face, my eyes.

A vision so sweet

Just outside my window

Beckons me to rise,

And come and tiptoe through the tulips of the sky.

I choose to start my day off right

So I can spin my light too,

And realize the causal way

That consciousness is not only aware,

But magically making things happen 

Here,

And out there in the molecules of the universe.

-jenn

 This morning when I walked my dog,

When we first started off,

I heard a whimper,

And I wondered if my dog

Was hurting,

But she really seemed to want to go .

Her tail was wagging,

And she was happily sniffing .

What’s that whining?

So I thought the noise might be a squeak

From the swivel on her leash,

But as we got out into the field,

Where I could release my hound,

And saw her run way up in front of me,

And it was then I realized ,

The squeaky wheel was me,

My polyester sleeve 

Rubbing against the bodice of

My polyester coat.

-jenn