The morning

Whether golden or grey

Is always full of promise

be it city sounds or sea

Or the still mountain

The morning is new

The morning is hope


The inner artist

I prefer abstract art because I am bound and tangled by the rules and details of daily life; taking life and making it abstract, surreal or slightly skewed is a comforting departure from being ensnared in the thorny vines of reality.

First there was a black president, then came a woman and a “radical” who may take the seat. It was too much for them, they had to March on Washington, to protest. A fragile, collected group of rich old men who grapple with their fleeting power. They are holding a sit in at the White House, but don’t worry, we are strong in numbers and in our hearts and they will give up (or die) soon enough.