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Peru

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Birds, Paracas Peru

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From the hotel window, Cuzco Peru

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Alpacas, somewhere in the Andes Mountains between Umapampa and Ica

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The Sacred Valley, near Pisaq Peru

After almost three weeks of traveling in Peru, I am happy to be home again. These are just a few instigrams from my trip. I will have many more photos to post once I have gone through and edited. Thanks for continuing to read while I was away!

Dig

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The winged creatures
took over the skies
as we watched them.
“watch your eyes!”
she yelled to me
as I walked confidently
out on the porch.

The magic of it was enough
to command me to action.

I began checking dreams
off my list
one by one.
Working hard and quickly
but sometimes missing
the joy with my constant
planning.

When a problem arises,
I remind myself,
it is best to dig at the root
instead of hacking away wildly
at the leaves.

I watch them flock together
with no clear leader.
How nice it must be
to not have a need for control.

Winged Creature

Up before the sun
on a Sunday morning
for some solitude
and writing.
The sunrise is a bonus
I had not considered.

One animal in and one out,
both hunting for whatever
captures their interest,
resembling  streaks of grey
more than domesticated animals.

We are all crepuscular beings and I am glad for them.

In this blue hour
I feel as though
all the birds will pray with me,
worms will sit with me
when I am lonely,
listen to me
when I sing.

I do not mind the rain or chill.

I wish I was a winged creature
who could sail above the trees
and look down instead of up
at the world and sky
in all her fickle glory.

I could be comfortable in the body of a bird.

We all evolve daily,
or should
if we know what’s good for us.

From where I sit
a bird flies too close
to the window,
I am momentarily
worried for him.
But there is no need.

He is only a beautiful silhouette
across the early morning green blue sky.
In another life he could have been my brother.
But in this one he is only a creature
who lives outside my windows.

The Interpretation of Dreams

I look out the window
surrounded by naked vines
and fog so thick I can no longer
see the birds who used to
swarm so joyfully.

It feels like it’s been ages
since I walked under a blue sky.

I read a book once that said
as humans when we feel an emotion,
in the midst of feeling it
we can’t imagine there
ever being a time when we
no longer feel that thing.
Though logically we know
it’s not true, we feel that
it will last forever.

It’s that kind of fog.

When I was young friends
would come to me for
an interpretation of dreams.

It was not hard.

There was meaning
waiting
right below
the surface,
asking me to reach down
and pull it up into the air.

I wonder if I reach up
into the fog
what kind of truth
will drip down on me.