Ma
Mother Nature, spiritually speaking.
A Touch and Feel Squeaky Book
2025.02.06
February 06, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Welcome back. O/
Check how you’re doing.
Weather, weather, weather.
Talk about the weather.
Remind you, it’s good to see you again.
Follow it all up with a usual catch-phrase.
On with the show...
...
Good day vibe today.
We can always, and should, find a positive way to see our day.
Sometimes it’s just here preloaded at wake up.
Preloaded.
Blame sleep. Dreams like when you do.
Plenty of talk on dreams around the site. Link!
Been almost a year since I started putting the morning pages down and posting them public.
...
Everyone loves a picture book.
Perhaps not Abe.
Unless we put a squeaker in it. A touch and feel squeaky book.
Like you some days…
Voice cracks from the excitement of good news from a friend.
A handshake. A hug. An exclamation pointed squeak (!).
Good vibe today, good sleeping dreams slept.
Sun’s coming up. Off-white shrugs off grey and slow dances with blue.
A little snow in the forecast.
The sky agrees with the weather forecasters.
Not always the case around here.
Mother Nature likes to troll the meteorologists in New England.
Enjoy your moments, your weather, your time, take care and have that better day.
+he Ghos+
It was well before morning almost a year ago:
“You got to do something, you just do,
before you know it you wake up and you’re 40.”
An old memory back with the first Happy
Birthday to tell me it was right again.
It was a hotel outside of Concord, Massachusetts,
Closer to a shopping mall than Walden Pond.
But close enough to see, just yesterday at sunset,
Birds flying from the pond’s shore, where everyday
Tourists who live a few miles away were
Diving in headfirst in swim caps and goggles:
Like insects smacking into
Pages of a history book made
With sheets
Of flypaper.
Well before morning almost a year
Ago and not surprised to find
Friendship,
Loneliness,
Love,
And
What Home
Might mean,
Casting
Shadows
And
Shapes
On this hotel ceiling.
Above this hotel bed.
Covered by this hotel white
Puff comforter, full of more air
Than
Comfort.
Not surprised to turn on
My quiet flashlight,
At my customary time, and join
My intended laptop at the table,
To write about:
The
Juxtaposition
Of the birds of Walden Pond,
To this hotel so covered
In
Scaffolding
I couldn’t read its name from the street.
“You gotta do something, you just do,
before you know it you wake up and you’re 40.”
Then a voice from 20 years ago:
“If you’re a poet when you’re 20, it’s because you’re 20;
if you’re a poet when you’re 40, it’s because you’re a poet.”
When you’re up before the birdsong,
Before the sunrise of your 40th birthday,
And it’s just another lifelong everyday
Morning that has you writing on
Friendship,
Loneliness,
Love
and,
What Home
Might mean,
And everyone you know is sleeping in a house with family,
Or under an empty comforter you just walked away from;
And they all think you’re awake
Because: You don’t need the sleep.
You are doing something,
And you most definitely,
Quite
Seriously,
Are
Convinced.
~ Wynn ~
A Brighter Stage
2025.01.20
January 20, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Snow, hello, away we go!
Hope sleep slept well and your day is easy fulfilling, God willing.
A snowstorm at night always anticipates morning.
The light off the snow makes a brighter stage, about an hour before it starts to show.
Late night. Odd, but practical dreams.
Health returns in increments.
I wrote months ago I've been sick so long I don't remember how well someone can feel until I do.
Been remembering a lot, lately.
Dudes, you got it pretty good.
If you're on the everyday ill train I departed awhile ago, keep the faith, be good to yourself, take care of yourself, and Life will get better.
Be good. Do good. Life will return the favor. She always pays back equally what She gets.
Some hard working people go to work if they catch a cold and push through the day.
For some of us that day is everyday.
For some of us a sick day is just called a day.
Dudes, you got it pretty good.
Onto brighter things.
The Sunrise works.
Just started to show.
Flat white glow versus a crystal light show. The kind of snow skiers like: Powder.
Abe's loveseat slipcover is in bunches, a heavy good night for him.
He recognizes it, looks at me, rolls his eyes and settles for the carpeted floor.
A pampered prince.
Looking through old posts a distinction between typed and handwritten is evident.
Longhand lends itself to sunrise thoughts. A keyboard is easier practicality, an essay versus prose.
I prefer slow sunrise thoughts.
Good news for artists and introverts. Our race turns from a spoken one to a literal one.
Good news for all of us.
"Think before you speak," good advice is obligatory in a textual based society.
To weigh and reflect what to say is just part of the way of basic communication.
Good. We'll evolve faster.
There's more accountability, therefore more morality in every exchange.
Take care, watch your mouth and hands, and have your better day.
+he Ghos+
The Band Name
2025.01.12
January 12, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How's your day?
Good sleep here. Slept in.
An Abe pace the floor,
"You waking up yet? There's food in the kitchen; the Sun's coming up,"
...morning.
Up.
...
- Find work you love.
- Stay true to it.
- Have a couple close friends that respect you for it.
- And one to share space, and time, and Love with.
Recipe for a good life. ^
The Sun's already showing. There's a full dog stomach on the loveseat.
A blue jay or crow caw too far in the distance to distinguish.
A couple years ago I realized I hear the same songs every morning and don't know the band names, so I started learning the names of the birds singing the songs.
"There's gotta be an app for that."
There's an app for that.
A few.
Maybe you'll try it too.
How dismissive of you to hear the same tracks every morning and not look up the band names.
This site's a kind of bird's song. A herald for the morning!
There are ways for everyone to enjoy getting their daily dose of language.
Take care, fly in the air, write with care, rock your roll flair, and have your better day.
+he Ghos+
To Bloom
2025.01.10
2025.01.10
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Good day for a good day.
And some lively punctuation.
Period.
What a thing to be, alive and free; what a thing to be.
How are you?
There's only as many ways to say hello as there are versions of a sunrise.
They look the same, read and write the same, though never are.
So, I hope all is well, there's more to tell, so let's carry on.
...
Still Winter. Still windy. Still an hour or so till sunrise. Still a love-seated sort of hound dog rescued, reclining with a full stomach nearby. Still a guy writing words to the sky, for the sky, for you.
A something new kind of day.
Maybe you'll try something new, too. Something good for you. Something you've been putting off. Like being thankful for where you are and what you have. One or two things at least.
It's January in New England and I'm already ready for a Spring sunrise.
Winter will do for now. I've got my imagination to light things up.
Something changed in the world this year. Some unspeakable thing.
You feel it, too?
Children and flowers take time to bloom. So does a change of heart in the air.
Take care, try something new, and have your better day.
+he Ghos+
Ugly Dogs
I freaking love ugly dogs!
Ugly Dogs!
I freaking love ugly dogs!
I love them!
Bilateral symmetry
Kiss his:
Ugly-pugly-fugly-mugly.
Pinch his (How many?)
Chins. (How many?!)
Wonderful!
I freaking love:
Happy! Joyous!
Ugly-Ugly-Ugly
Dog snores from the couch.
Lazy eye lounges
Leers at the front door…
Soon the pizza will arrive.
Hope he gets some crust
With bubbles on it.
God’s Grace is an ugly dog’s face,
Crooked teeth sunk in bubbles on crust
Made just right for an ugly dog.
~ Wynn ~
Sitting and watching the sunrise
With no one but your sleepy dog,
A cup of tea and a frozen waffle.
That's a good life.
When a hawk flies
Fast by my window
Just after
Sunrise,
I wonder what it means.
The hawk wonders how
I can be up so early
And only had half
A barely
Toasted
Frozen-Waffle.
Wynn
The Same Winged Thing
2025.01.05
2025.01.05
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How's your day?
Got that thing out of the way, yet?
Feels good I bet.
Get yourself together.
There's life to live.
Yours.
On with the show...
...
Let's go.
Dog on the loveseat, Sun's taking his time, same ol' silence in the house, in the air outside, up to the dark domed sky.
Time to fly butterfly.
A butterfly is a strong metaphor loud dazzling colors, pasted in myths, on T-shirts, on posters, flapping wings in T.V. commercials, chiming wind chimes, singing its song of metamorphosis to every witch, weirdo, and wonderstruck one of us brave enough to dream of a better life somewhere, somehow, in the sky.
Crack that cocoon.
Time for takeoff.
Time to take on your new life for Heaven's sake and your own.
Finally, you old worm, they're the same winged thing.
Take care, flutterby butterfly, and have your better day.