Darling I keep losing and finding again in the loss,
In cloud, evening, sunset, light flecks on water,
The solitary magpie’s winged arc across an entire sky,
Leaves, animal eyes, in whatever is closest to life,
Whenever you arrive, as this butterfly on my hand
I find semblance of peace in the world you inhabit.
A melting pot of paint, poetry and philosophy
I feel your growing affinity with nature and and it can surprisingly support our making sense of things
I was attending to the rose bush in my garden, and out of nowhere the blue butterfly landed on my hand , she came… and she went, seemed to last for hours, the tingling warmth in my hand did.
Barely seen a butterfly this year which makes me sad. One sat on my hand 2 summers ago and I recall how special it was
How nicely you say it! I love it!
There is always an immediacy of beauty in the garden, there is always the need to pay attention, and the need to communicate our innermost feelings, a longing beyond eternity.