Hop Potter

Those voices come when I am asleep
trees, currents, waves on warm shores sing
Images, beliefs, dance, listening
WE may pause drinking water
Hold the pen, pencil as if, I live freely in this constant next adventure

Those aspects of personal history
The ways we knew, felt or kneeled among mystery's what is revealed

Often now, as then ... I seek the Natural world I work for as my ancestors did.
Born where six families lived in common spirit, expression, creativity
Maybe history... Maybe farms we saw, is what we see
There is a mechanics of detail that comes as I follow...
The little walks become dances
Turns circles newness while the rainy umbrellas cover the last sunflowers

I gather fluffy Mullin. leaves then seeds
.. wild spearmint , stinging nettle all of them in the ritual of how earth rests

I touch the aged dirt with respect in a place I rake snow as sand Zen

I smell the scents uncounted by light
I step softly, Inside my involuntary kiss
I'll refill the vase to hold my sweet wife though I have given up sorrow
I smile laugh allow our memoirs to mingle seeing love still there.

Well Felt while the centuries burn
You and I........... quietly choosing to be left out ....Out there..........so we may embrace the Local natural world.....

hop