As you search through life, stop here for a breath.
Poem of the Month
My office is yellow - and plastic. No room for diplomas, awards, trinkets or memoirs. No need for a desk or phone. I carry it with me; sometimes by hand and sometimes by car. To the serenity of Nature's rhythms and in the sanctity of silence, my kayak drifts softly and serenely; a gentle lapping while resting in the palm of the water soothes my soul. I write. And as I sit in the bay looking up at town with cars and people going to and fro to their file cabinets, faxes, and phones, I smile...an eider floats near - my waiting room has lots of space.
...an eider floats near - my waiting room has lots of space.