An exploration with wordart from my leftover materials from my primary election guide.
A Few Wordart Haiku
Category: Poetry
Haiku, August 7, 2020
within the darkness
memories of the daylight
as I seek to rest
This is my first experiment with Adobe Spark. I find Canva a bit more intuitive at first blush. I’ll see where that goes. As I have a Creative Suite subscription, Spark makes significant economic sense.
An evening haiku, August 4, 2020
sunlight climbing down
from the mountains to the west
the bees contented
Morning Haiku, August 3, 2020
wakefulness
reading upon the couch
re-dreaming dreams
Finding it hard to remain awake this morning, awake, asleep, startling awake..the cycle spins, daylight climbs eastern mountains, dawn fades to memory.
Haiku, August 2, 2020
another day past
feeling the grace of sunlight
soon, petals will fall
- I love the flowers i see on my walks. This one out from yesterday. Today I didn’t get out. My right foot ended up with some brutal blisters. Make sure your shoes fit right, and aren’t too worn. They’ll thank you for it.
The Opportunity of Morning Sunlight
morning sunlight
breeze changes direction
opportunity
I see so much opportunity, and how privilege feeds that. How I can pick and choose amongst these choices, while so many others struggle to get by.
How can I leverage privilege and expand opportunity for all?
Is this how I make the world better?
Flowers On My Walk
walking in sunlight
renewed life fueled by its grace
moving through my space
Living in the suburbs north of Seattle, I see many flowers. You probably have no trouble discerning that from my posts. As a young man, I fled these burbs. Life’s sense of humor, though, kicked in hard. I know life just about a hundred feet from the house I grew up in.
The passing time brings perspective. Now I feel a deep love for this place. My connections deep: friendships, history, I can look at a spot and talk about decades of change, and stability. These suburbs resist change well, but not perfectly.
These flowers which bored me as a boy and young man, well, they now bring me happiness. Years of growth, of death, of change, yet the bees still buzz, flowers still bloom, and summer becomes autumn.
Saturday Morning, August 1
cool air
I rejoice
summer calmed
A Saturday Morning Haiku
dawn hidden by clouds
crow’s vociferous debate
I return to sleep
Crows created quite a ruckus this morning. A multitude gathered, some kind of mass debate. Congress arguing tax cuts. They abruptly dissolve. My mind drifts back to dreams.
A Summer Morning Haiku
morning tea
a spot of honey
summer sunlight