What gets left behind
with our unmade minds
forever rushing?
What do we leave behind
if we did not take the
the time to notice?
What is no longer mine
because neither you nor I
could take our time?
12/02/2024 j.g.l.
look around
Be thankful
for what you have, for
what you have to let go of,
and for those who are still
with you. Gratitude comes
in many forms. Look around.
Be thankful.
j.g.l.
cloud songs
It is only silence and only
for now, a minute or three
but who is counting?
Enough, for now.
Slight Repose, a little grace,
enough until you have
found your place. Might be
morning, or the end of the day,
yet it is time to yourself anyway.
For now.
11/29/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on October 11, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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On each of my morning walks, during the past week or so, over the sidewalks and pick-marked pavement of downtown Toronto, I could not help but notice the sounds and sights of autumn.
Last Wednesday (or was it Tuesday?) a chorus of Canada Geese rang out above me as the sun was just rising. I looked up, of course, but could not see the birds above the canopy of trees in the park.
But, I did notice.
I also noticed the leaves, some of them, slowly shifting to the familiar autumn colours. Each day I noticed a few more, but I have not, not yet, been overwhelmed by a shock of orange and yellow leaves.
The temperatures in Toronto remain above average for this time of year, and we have not experienced an overnight frost, so the leaves will continue changing slowly.
They are not in a rush.
Neither am I.
Autumn, often, moves too quickly.
I prefer taking the time.
10/11/2021 j.g.l.
