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Hope Leaps Like a Fox in Winter

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  Surreal Artwork by Ronald Ong Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #151 Come join us! Love must be as much a light as a flame. ~Henry David Thoreau My weary hands ache from all the holding on and the letting go that is the cost of greedy hands  and a hasty heart there was once a time  when you were the warmth to my winter the flame my hands held close to but fast fires can only burn so long the burning house sooner or later falls to ash a rubble one must walk away from the season comes and goes but my heart always hopes for more it leaps like a fox in winter and holds tight to all it finds it can be a heavy burden in the loss of letting go.      

The Magnificence of Hope

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"Indigo Sky Mares" by Laurel Burch Click HERE for her website. Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #147 Some things have to be believed to be seen. ~Ralph Hodgson Magnificence surrounds us it touches sky and souls like wings it is all a true miracle from birth to passing on the freedom to inhale to see and truly be I am blessed to have known you the one that made me surely see the vision of hope is a freedom a force as wild as horses with no fence it is mine and yours to tame and ride If only we truly will.  

Here in My Grieving Heart

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  Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 145 My amazing and talented poet friend Chrissa is hosting this week! Come join us! "...a final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works." ~ T. E. Kalem You tried to weather the cold with no jacket that was a dangerous thing to do my dear there are worse things  than fevers and frost bit toes it can be a precarious place here shifting winds colder than Colorado snow falls and stays longer than a cast-iron skillet in an old kitchen the grievances of a thousand hurts lay beneath the snow’s crest it does not take much to conjure them up the ghosts of what could have been can walk fields longer than any continent yet you walk here in this knee deep snow expecting winter to walk out like a dad who has had an affair you think the warmth of your arms will one day thaw what is frozen bring the climate change needed to heal and grow the underbrush to break

Spitting Out the Bad Apples!

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 Linking today with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 142 Some men change their party for the sake of their principles; others their principles for the sake of their party.   ~Winston Churchill     I am hungry for a greater truth Something more than chewed up lies Real becomes a fairytale when what is seen is a disguise It seems that what was up is now down And that righteousness is some form of hate If that’s your wealth of knowledge to impart Then I will keep my empty plate!

The Real Reason Martha Burned the Old Table Cloth,

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 Image by Justin Dingwall Click HERE to see his website. Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 135 Martha always wanted to serve leg of lamb for her many rich friends.  She envisioned them sipping expensive wine, using her fine china, and discussing the Queen’s gorgeous attire at the latest fund raiser gala.  But ever since her Rupert broke their vows with Laverne Covington on Martha’s dining table, ruining their luxurious table cloth, she knew all the guests would only be talking about all the dirty laundry at her expense.  So, this year, the fine china would remain in the hutch.  Her rich friends and Rupert could just go to China for all she cared!   Martha would be eating a large bowl of banana pudding wrapped up in her favorite wool blanket.  Who needs leg of lamb, or a wayward man when you have BANANA pudding??!!     Wishing everyone a safe and wonderful Thanksgiving 2020!

Through Space & Time

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  "Migration" Painting by Eddie Schrieffer Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 128 Come join us! The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on. ~Emily Dickinson     Poetry does not always plead nor pull sometimes it is stoic like the moon yet still frivolous and soft like butterflies it braves the weather of war and change yet endures the loneliness of an unopened book timeless it floats on the oxygen of souls never ending on the last poignant line yet those that hold it close to their heart take it with them with their dying breath.

Some Barbed Wire Fences

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  Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 127 Hosted this week by the truly amazing poet Chrissa. I was raised in the country Where the only steel in twenty miles was  the tractor  the plow  and some hearts but the truest of cutting  was never in the field so my love became a cattle guard  surrounded by a barbed wire fence and praying for rain  turned into wings strong country fences never stopped a crow only the cattle and the sheep yet even when the crow makes it to the city it’s heart still remembers the country in which it came and climbing barbed wire fences is always dangerous whether you are trying to leave or trying to get home.