Everything breathes, lives; moving or rock still. Passing years reflected in moon curves, know of existence. Of destiny, that's another issue. Some of us are more gifted than others. Who knows which mountain, will crumble, which sea will be parted down its middle affording passage to a designated few?
What is there in knowing anyway. Each day dawns with some promise of its waning to dark inky skies. Maybe in our struggles to understanding and wisdom, the gratitude for life, that is enough.
ixora blooms
at day's end stay open -
sharing beauty
© gillena cox 2019
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea). A Happy Monday to all
Welcome to Monday WRites #221, ❧✿❧
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Haibun Monday - Gratitude
AND
Mosaic Monday
55 Autumn Amble
REVISIT
25 November 2016
25 November 2015
photos and poem © gillena cox
