Wrinkles and creases mar smooth surface, yet still it stands upright, capable of task. Leaning slightly to the left, open at the top, all kinds of dust settles there. The innards of this crumpled mess hold something so dear, sacred substance for healing, for cleansing the spirit, the whole.
Chimes stand still, wind will not move them. Made with love and careful measurement, every bead and every shell strategically placed, a beautiful sight to see. Memories of idle time put to good use … Creativity flowing in silence.
Love framed in dark lines,
Held in place with glue.
Cavern containing fresh waters wait,
Wanting to be discovered.
Rain comes through the shaking of a stick,
Over and over it pours out sound.
Flowers in bubbles,
Collectors piece, yearning for contact with eyes.
A pond and reeds, still and quiet,
A hint of color shows life.