Unhurried.

This

fluid

gold

light from

sun

calling it

a day.

Spilling

over

lists

still left

undone.

A respite

from

a life

driven.

I pick slow

moments

weighing

each

one,

carefully

inhaling

the

heady

fragrance

of

slow.

— Unhurried.

Let her sing over your fears.

And,

even when

this life is

threadbare;

edges

frayed

from worry.

The earth

still sings a

lullaby

over all those

who listen

for her beauty.

— Let her sing over your fears.

.

.

.

When my heart is full and worry tries to rob me of peace, I look for the beauty all around me.

Early morning mist over the hills, a blackbird singing its song, blackberries exchanging their Summer coats for Autumn attire — Nature sings a constant song of beauty over me.

I find peace in the silence of the woods and meadows.

I am no longer hungry for what you could not give.

I was left

with all these

holes

in the fabric of my

heart,

because

you

could not give

me,

what

you did not

possess.

But,

I nurtured them

in silence.

Filled them with beauty.

And see now,

flowers have grown

where there once

was

nothing.

— I am no longer hungry for what you could not give.