As a writer, I'm always scribbling.
Today I came across this.
Written years ago,
and still true.
Today I went outside with my granddaughter
to see the frost on the grass.
Not just to see it,
but to reach down and touch it.
The crystals were fully formed
and snared the sunlight, casting blue and pink auras.
I was amazed by it
and didn't remember ever having viewed frost before -
at least not in the belly-on-the-ground way.
It was sweet really.
Perhaps it comes from the fact that I'm past the middle mark.
Now my life will whittle down no matter how I try to keep it back -
to stay it with face cream, underwire bras and shape-shifting panties.
It's now the time of the downward slide.
The frost is just one example of my new found wonder of the world and nature.
Just last month, as I was driving down the freeway, I saw waving wheat -
not really, but it seemed to me.
As the sun rose to the east
cars between the sun and tall grass
created an ilusion of shadow and sun and wind-swept prairie.
Something I remembered from my youth
when wheat fields could be seen waving from all the freeways.
My illusion was beautiful, mesmerizing and intriguing -
and I wanted to go back and film it,
and perhaps that's why
I was on my belly in the frosted grass,
because if I don't to it today
I might not have another chance.