Facing Forward, Pursuing Progress
Looking at how we’re evolving culturally, and how humanity engages with itself, for good and for ill.
freshest morning light
brightening the clouds at dawn
puddles of songbirds
Watching dawn move on a cloudy morning, light comes through the clouds slowly, gently. The firs brighten, birds wake, yet humanity’s quiet.
The world still convulses, desperate for justice. A new day, an opportunity for change, for hope, for peace.
a springtime moment
some cat holding a sparrow
blood on its whiskers
These are troubling times, aren’t they? I wonder what it would take for humanity to seek connection instead of division. Perhaps I’m naive to think that such a thing is possible. Perhaps. Yet I’ll cling to my hope.
in this time of rage
invective traded like cash
poetry’s my peace
Checked Twitter this morning. So much rage. I’m not sure there’s not anyone without veins bulging nor invective dripping from their lips, a poison so sweet, so deadly.
I’m glad I have this little garden on the internet, where I can delight in life and growth, not what’s been burned beyond recognition.
in this morning calm
do not rush; embrace the calm
near the feasting bees
Ah, the beauty of mornings. No one else awake, the sun rising, hidden by trees and clouds. A perfect Seattle morning…for me, at least.
While walking this evening for exercise and mental clarity, I came across these blossoms.
sunsets through the trees
gently, the birdsong ending
a heron in flight
though we sit indoors
birds’ harmonies reach my ear
spring has still arrived
The seasons care not for the concerns of humanity. Spring arrives no matter our preparedness, nor our desires. Life continues its motion.
I hope this finds you healthy and safe. How are you adapting to our new life?
a moment outdoors
springtime’s flowers greeting me
with social distance
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p style=”font-size:16px;”>yet I look to the future
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p style=”font-size:16px;”>I am far from done
Met a really cool guy today. A former Navy nuclear power program sailor, just like me. Though he is quite a bit younger.
Swapped stories of our respective experiences, which I enjoyed. Yet I often worry in those moments that I’ll become like the subject of Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days”, a relic, trapped in the past. Grave fate, for me, at least.
so many miles
weathered and worn by life
a cold biting wind