context for a moment

You can see the sky in the photo above

but that is not all there was.

Birds flew across my walking path.

There was the train’s whistle and the rumble of the wheels of the carriages being pulled on the tracks.

There was the intermittent hum of traffic, the cadence of my footsteps, and a refreshing breeze.

There is always more to a moment than what you see.


No matter how often

I walk through this local park.

No matter my pace.

There are gifts offered.

There are gifts received.


Some mornings
The Artist uses the sun with bold brushstrokes,
painting the canvas that is sky
with bold colors –
fuschia, orange, bright yellows.

Other mornings,
His brushstrokes seem tender, gentle,
and the sky is covered in soft pinks,
and baby blues, and creamy yellows.

And in our lives,
The Artist is at work,
even using “colors”
(our experiences, events, choices)
that were not part of His original design,
to paint something beautiful.


Driving by in my car
Waiting at a traffic light
Sitting in slow moving traffic
I have watched them

Those whose movements are a thing of beauty
Long, even strides
Body upright
Limbs loose
I have watched and smiled, even nodded in admiration

Others seem clumsy
Limbs uncoordinated
As if seconds away from tripping over their own feet
Chests heaving
I have watched and smiled, amused

But both groups are runners
And I, sitting in my car
Am a spectator
Not a runner

E. Wright © September, 2015

Ocean waters. Human Emotions

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Ocean waters are sometimes calm, soothing,
Sauntering, strolling, meandering to the shore
Inviting reflection and “just being” moments

But with a change in the wind, or some other external element
They hurl against the shore, tantamount to an assault
Raging and sending those nearby scampering for safe places

Much like our emotions
Which can change in response to circumstances
But which, unlike the ocean, we can learn to control
And limit their damaging effects on others

© E. Adams Wright, August 2015

Meeting at the wall

We met at the end of a wall
I, sister to more than a few and word lover
On the final leg of my morning walk

He, a pure black Labrador
Out for his morning constitutional?
Or was he just exploring the world?

We met at the end of a wall
Me on the sidewalk
He on the lawn

Seemed like we both paused
Briefly taking each other’s measure
Before he shyly dipped his head and retreated

Only to return to our meeting place after I had moved on
And stand there regally observing the world

© E. Wright, July 2015