Thanks, I will be going now to breathe fresh air in June,
but not before I’ve spent the night a gazing at the moon,
needles of pine, spring scented rushing winds of fragrance,
and pushes me from side to side and sailing in a free dance,
filled with beauteous splendor, I cross my arms up close,
pinning to my mind the joy from you that flows,
Tag: beauty
Welcome All
Fun in the Sun
Beauty by L. M. Montes
What is beauty?
A visual of mountains, streams, and lakes?
Is it a flower?
Those precious colored jewels, our breaths they take?
Is it the ocean waves spilling across the sand?
A sound so smooth and brings us sleep?
Does it come in the form of a sweet scent?
From flowers’ scents to baked pecan rolls, a taste we keep?
What form does it take?
Any form to you and me from Jesus hand for us to see.
Spring is Here
Another Oregon Coast Pic
Weeds of Life: a Sonnet by L. M. Montes
A daydream takes the mind upon a flight
of visions dancing ‘cross the brain of sight,
imagine if you can a tale of weeds
clawed and deep within the flowers of seed,
choking out such beauty to die and bend
never to grow up but meet its end,
but fingers claw and pull out from the muck
life’s problems sewing in and now are stuck,
yank once then twice and thrown aside and out
of God’s garden that man has strewn about,
at last sun’s rays uplift His color wheel
of blooms with sweetest scents that touch and heal
our body, mind, and soul from evil’s clutches,
blessing all who bow, and Jesus touches.
Wilderness by L. M. Montes
In the vast array of wild I shrank
with no one else about,
am I the only one on earth
or separate, taken out.
Foliage crunched as footsteps sank
in leaves of dry dead beds,
where is water for me to drink,
a pounding slams my head.
A distant creek spoke in bubbles
leading my ear to treat my tongue,
dragging feet and limbs in slump
I flopped in waters that sung.
Life’s Tides by L. M. Montes
Life’s tides sneak unseen
as meditations meld my mind,
passive, I remain,
a wind’s breeze feathers a scent
of sweet roses, walking by,
yet passive to the tides
of life as they wave good bye.
The Dancing Butterfly by L. M. Montes
Wisk, swish, soar, swoon,
on pockets of air it flips,
up, down, back, forth,
‘fore shadows tap the moon.
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 