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.
This Monday
Posted on July 25, 2022 by j.g.lewis
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I slept in this morning.
I didn’t hear the internal alarm clock that, almost without fail, awakens me each morn and I must have blissfully enjoyed my time between the sheets without guilt. I woke refreshed without the residue of difficult dreams or urgent concerns that often drive me to the keyboard to tap out some sort of thought, message, or moral.
It seems a refreshed mind is often blank or clear of unsettling thought. At least, it is this morning.
I’m pretty sure I did not stir in the night. I’m pretty sure the air-conditioned comfort of the bedroom was appreciated; especially after a day of wandering about my city in the intense heat and humidity we have been experiencing lately.
I’m pretty sure the last thing I recall before drifting off into the soul satisfying, coma-like slumber was the harsh and heavy Old Testament rain that seems to have removed the humidity from our atmosphere (at least for a time).
The sun is out.
So far, it seems like a good day.
That’s the thought the well rested me will now take further into the day.
07/25/2022 j.g.l.
