Carol A. Hand
Only precious fleeting moments
In the present
How quickly they pass
The stillness of the morning
The remaining leaves golden in the rising sun
Before the drone of traffic and engines has begun
Drowning out chickadee song
Photo: Duluth Morning – November 3, 2015
Too soon I’ll begin the transition
To a time in the past
As I write of other times
With my thoughts far away
My attention no longer on here and now
I remind myself there’s a reason
This is now my storytelling season
Please be patient. I may not post often or visit your blogs as frequently as I would like this month. Each day I make this transition in time as I work on writing a book: We Remember: Ojibwe Stories about Surviving the Child Welfare (Ill-fare) Years. It’s not easy for me to return to the present with anything meaningful to say.
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The wonder of you! xoxox
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Thank you, dear friend. ❤
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Beautiful!!!!! Thanks Carol, looking forward to read that book!
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Thank you, Hector 🙂
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Lovely, thoughtful poem! Best wishes on your project; looking forward to your return to the present, or whenever you come up for air! 🙂 No need to respond to this, just keep calm and write on! 🙂
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I so appreciate your always kind and encouraging comments, Hildegard. Thank you ❤
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Nice to see you immersed in your story-writing season, carol. Make full use of your mornings before the day’s din starts claiming on your energies. Best wishes for a successful completion. I am part of your audience…
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Thank you for your ever-lovely and encouraging comments, Raj. Hearing from you is always a gift.
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