Friday, June 25, 2010

Escape



Close your eyes,
and in your mind's eye,
see your perfect place of beauty and tranquility.
See every little detail...
Feel the heat from the sun...
Smell the sea...
Hear the fountain in the courtyard...
Create your perfect place of escape.
Keep it locked in your mind's eye,
and go there when you need to remove yourself from the world.
Step through the gate
and close it behind you.
The ugly, harshness of the world cannot come here.
Only beauty, kindness, peace, love, gentleness.
This is my place of peace.
My hideaway.
My escape.



Blessings
Yaya

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Simple Summer Supper


Summertime in the south...
Refreshing ocean breeze...
Golden sunsets...
Pasta Salad...
Cool watermelon...
Vine ripe tomatos...




Mix spirl vegetable pasta
with bacon, eggs, tomatos, and black olives...


Roasted red pepper Italian dressing...
Mix...
Serve with a cold, elegant Sauvignon Blanc...





Take a walk along a narrow island lane...
Along the bay...
Passed the marsh...
and into the golden sunset...
A perfect ending to a beautiful day.




Blessings
Yaya



Sunday, June 13, 2010

Black Tide

The southern sky
hanging out there
clear as crystal
suspended over a summer beach...


My island in the sun...
Catch me in the sunlight
standing by the sea,
thinking,
thinking...There isn't a sound...
There are no seagulls here today...
Oh maybe...just one...
Only one.


There are no fishermen...
No, not one...
We feel let down.
I know what's happening to us
and I know why.
Outside myself I stand
looking back in amazement...
Parts of the writings are Rod McKuen...
"Seasons in the Sun"
Parts are me...
Standing in the sand,
at sunset...
Thinking...
Knowing what has happened to our mother ocean,
looking back in amazement.


As I return back to the island cottage,
I keep imagining my island in the sun,
whole,
pure,
healing...
The way she was...








Out beyond my window,
the fan palms move in the island breeze,
and the oleander puts on a colorful show...
I saw a falling star last night,
as I sat out under the night sky.
The birds were singing this morning,
and everything seemed normal...
Everything,
that is,
but
the
black tide...




Yaya