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.
Month: June 2023
Common Marigolds have replaced last month’s (or last season’s) tulips in the flower beds at my favourite downtown park.
After the tulips had done their thing this spring by displaying a bit of colour, relief, and magic to a landscape still recovering from a weary winter, they succumbed to the natural path of life, doffed their petals and wilted down to barren brown stems.
Marigolds, still small and hopeful, have brought dabs of colour back to St. James Park’s well-tended garden, offering significance again to the earth. Hardy as they are — able to survive both plentiful rain and modest drought (and at this point we’re still not sure which direction summer is headed) — the marigolds will guide us through the next few months (summer is so unbearably short) and attract butterflies, bumble bees, and many photographers (just like me) who will admire the beauty of the present.
Fortified by yesterday’s rain (and perhaps tonight’s … or tomorrow’s), the humble plants will grow and expand as much as time allows, each day nourishing our souls and adding more colour to our lives.
06/27/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on June 26, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Show kindness.
Express gratitude.
Sincerity counts.
Each virtue on its
own is powerful but
together, or one in
response to another,
heightens the entire
human experience.
Thankfully.
Sincerely.
06/26/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on June 25, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Perception, apprehension,
internal deliberations, and
meditations or rumination:
the evolution of thought, a
revolution in all directions.
How many angles will be
considered for one question
or dilemma? True reflection.
06/25/2023 j.g. lewis
