Stasis

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ponderous snow mountain
black rocks
white cat [with tabby patches]
contemplates the sun-blessed mist

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The Little Gray Cells…

Encephalon, a stand-in for brain,
elusive thoughts fluttering down the drain.
A bird’s encephalon’s naturally small,
yet its instincts “hone sharply”, knowing all.
Focused frenetic flying is an art.
How much does the encephalon take part?
Perhaps my motor, my encephalon,
will guide me to King Arthur’s Avalon.

Nothing Ordinary Here

Mulling the magic, ordinary days…
Do cows ruminate on the grass they graze?
When birds are soaring high in clear blue skies,
The essence of the moment fills my “eyes”.
A Day’s magic distilled into minutes —
Cat’s curiosity knows no limits.
He leaped up on the tree, claws extended.
The moment didn’t last, but ’twas splendid!
Did the magic linger in the cat’s mind?
We find greatness in daily tasks well mined.