outside my window there is...

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a stone.
big people pass it by,
and then along comes a child
who sees it's beauty,
picks it up,
and brings it to me
as a gift!
i see the beauty too,
feel it as i hold it in my hands.
lots of those stones are outside my window --
how blessed am i!

[WIREMAN]

where they come from
we know not
some young...some old....
it's the getting out there that
opens the door
he may be shams and throw your
books and all that came before
in the well.....a connection to
the everlasting "LIVE"

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a vine that my father planted.
the branches are bare,
they twist round and round.
i'm waiting for the vine to bloom again,
i'm waiting for the green leaves,
the red flowers,
and
i'm waiting for the wind to carry
the scent through the window again.
i wish i could wait for my dad's return too.
he's gone, but his roses remain.

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
life lived
sometimes young, sometimes old
sometimes warm, sometimes cold
sometimes silver, sometimes gold

life lived well --
loved well,
is
ALL that is ever-lasting!

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a missing friend.
life sped up,
days passed,
paths went this way and that.
i watch for her
but i can't see her from where i sit.
i'm going to go in search
and let her know
my life is less without her.
i can't wait to sit with her again,
if only for a moment.

[WIREMAN]

outside my window
a veranda as if
I lived in a Parisian
courtyard above an
Ethiopian restaurant
exotic scents coming
from below the light
minimal yet there is
a serenity here and
a beauty like no other
place I've ever lived
when warmer weather
comes I'll add some plants
and flowers of the potted variety.....

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a beautiful creature,
dark and lovely
strong and tender
my soul's mate.
missing him
while he's away,
i watch from my window
waiting for him to return.

[WIREMAN]

I wait for the night
the sounds of flight
words spoken in
tangled tongues
this day was slower
than expected
cold spring before
the risen................

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a place that i imagine
with your help.
a place where we sit
together
all of us
in stillness,
toasting with cups filled to
the brim with rich, dark coffee...
setting sun
warm on our skin,
red sky,
red flowers...
eyes closed,
wireman whistles a tune.

[Whitebird Sings]

outside my window there is...
a road.
at each end of this road there is another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another
and another.
i know this to be true
because i have travelled
some of them,
and i have friends
who have travelled others.
what i don't know is
where the roads come to an end.
i think i will someday,
but for now
i'm satisfied with finding new ones
and travelling them,
and i am happy to have friends
who find their own new ones
and tell me about them.
you?