Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Page 3~ While Playing Around

In case you just tuned in?
I am in search of words,
ones that will hit the page perfectly,
as if they we were just waiting
for me to lay out the paper...
for them to land on!
So far it's not happening sitting at a table
with the right clothes on......
and perfect cup of coffee!

SO...I decide to...!

Get Out! In the world,
Away from the desk,
and the uninspiring outfits,
the rabbit invasion outside the window,
where the dog will be happy
and see what the desert has to say!

With new running shoes on,
I head to the lakes edge.
In Rikii MuZe's world,
it's the Whacka Whee River.
(Try saying that over and over really fast!)
Across the Bridge to When,
to the Island of What If.

It had been suggested early on
that Rikii and company would
live somewhere like Lake Havasu City.
Because from their very first visit,
John and Lee, while having lunch next
to the famous London Bridge,
(They are from England, remember?)
They felt it was a unique and wacky place.
This desert paradise on a large river
in the middle of nowhere.
I loved it... and the name Myz Tikkle Town
was scripted to the paper doorways.

This island is where I come for exercise
and inspiration.
My wide open playground of possibilities
outlined in a fringe of liquid indigo.

Running, my long time form
of moving mediation.
I wind my way along
the dips and inclines of the landscape,
and breath it in, drink it even.
All of it.
The barren beauty, the winter light,
so different than the summer kind!
High contrasts of shadow play.
The lake (or River) reflecting color
as deep as an ocean's hues,
brilliantly frigid looking
in it's Brrrrr Blue.

Oh, just a note, I DID leave
the fleece pants behind!
Phew! (see prior post)

There is no defined path here,
just edges that fall away,
trailed mini mountains that invite you
into their valleys
only to make you climb straight up again
on the other end!
Sometimes I take these,
sometimes I don't.
The terrain's, ever changing
and unfamiliar.
Like life, I suppose.
(oh, that was far too obvious to write,
I suppose...and yet?)
And there this tree,
The Allowing Tree,
that is never in the same place,
I swear!

Light on my feet this am
after writing virtually nothing,
in my new tennis, black
and surprisingly? YES, pink!
Dog flying by my side with happy ears,
over hill and dale!

When my new partners
and I initially met,
we discussed backgrounds,
because although
the dried banana leaf paper
had been sufficient enough
for the Wild Women series,
it wouldn't be for children's stories!

"And where will they live?" they asked.

This question sent me into
a panic, last April!
Live? They don't live anywhere!
And certainly nothing as mundane
as a house or rabbit hut.
Winnie the Pooh images flooding in
and it felt too cliche for the characters
I meant to create.
So where then?

And just like Rikii's name,
(while running one day,)
it suddenly came to me.
They will live in Lighthouses!!!
Of course, it was perfect!
Magic lighthouses that move around
the island (like the tree)
never in the same location,
where they were last seen.
In whimsical colors,
designed with slides, funny door knobs,
odd shaped windows
and bucket like roofs.

Because on the island... in MY real life
and along the edges of the lake,
are lighthouses!

Years ago, a group got together to create
a series of lighthouses
that are exact replicas
of famous ones from around the country.
These lighthouses,
(and I wish I knew more about this)
are not just for looks,
they guide boaters around
the sharp cliffed edges of a night time shore.
They are cool and fun, candy striped,
East coast looking, castle like,
one is even from my hometown cliffs
of Lake Superior!

There is one of these lighthouses,
in the distance,
it becomes my destination,
realizing I have never really sat on
or near one before.
Running near, paddling by
or boating past, yes,
but not sitting with them.
Or lets say, I have not yet 'experienced' one.

I reach it and lean on this particular one
that is half red and half white.
There is graffiti all over, but nice graffiti
epithets of juvenile love.
And in the spirit of the candle party,
I attended the previous night,
where we had to guess the fragrance,
of samples as they were passed around,
in which I was inspired to come up
with names like
Baby Butts or Bazooka Pink and Dirty Feet.
I started to think of descriptions!

Hmmm? So,
this lighthouse could be called,
Half Licked Lollipop.

That's it! The lighthouses need names!!!
Of Briggiedy Blue Saturday,
One Stripe and Periwinkle Pockets !!!!!!
Thats's good! Quick, write it down....
Crap, no notebook it's two miles across desert
in my jeep.
So it is a race back to the paper,
while being chased by idea after idea!

And this when I know...
THIS is how it works...
how it has always worked.
I don't sit in
my dining room waiting for it to find me...
staring out the window....

For me? It is in the act of movement,
participation, interaction,
paying attention to the world,
in the voices of lighthouses
and herons, even the seagulls
(who don't seem to like me, much.)
in looking for heart shaped stones,
building stone people,
having a kite strung from my hands.
THIS is where the magic finds me,
in acts of playing and silly communion
where imagination becomes ignited
with 'what if after what if?'

In synchronistic confirmation,
there is an email from
my friend 'hippie gypsy mother of four,'
who had just read my last
post about the Unprocess of Writing,
and writes most profoundly:
(and it seems I am not the only one
thinking in rhymes....these days.)

"Your job today, is to get out and play

follow the flow, catch and release rainbows.

Frantastic, spoonastic, make it hoohoobulus fun.

Then pull out your pen and dream up some drum,

Putting flow to paper and swirling colors round,

It will only be found when playing around."

And she is right!

But I DO think I might have to design
some paper pants
and maybe wear a pen on a rope around my neck!
for those inspirational moments
when that notebook is in the distance...
a long ways from that 'Barber Shop' lighthouse
on What If Island.

Pam Piper Rain

Page 2 The Un~process of Writing

Rising from the thrashed
tangled tide of sheets, it's early...
(feline early,
meaning they are not up nor
are they getting up anytime soon.)
But I am and have to be!
It's time to chase the magic,
well, more like try to find it.
AND then chase it down and
wrestle it to the page, willing or unwilling,
good or awful, trite or profound,
something must be netted at this time!

Cause this is my job...
and I am showing up for it.

This time? From 5 to 7.
Before the world wakes up
outside my window, inside my computer
(social media distractions, stay away, stay away.)
Two hours to write something before
the dog starts to block my path,
(the one I walk the same time everyday
just in case I forgot I had ONE ,
she thinks tripping over her might
help her cause.)
Before the phone stars to buzz with texts
and demands and inquires,
equally impossible to ignore.
Before I start to get 'Leadership head'
more planning, more fussing, more fretting!

So I make the perfect cup of coffee,
sit at my dining room table,
not glancing in the direction
of the pouty dog
and stare out the window
for any sign of the sun and
I am ready to begin the process...!

The process?
This would be where I write about it,
I suppose!
Except... I don't really have one
and quite frankly I should BY now!
For me it's always been random.
like while driving somewhere
and making an erratic stop,
to jot a phrase that sometimes
feels handed to me from the heavens,
and usually a one shot deal.
A take it or 'we are finding someone else
whose NOT driving' to give it to!

It's the kind of gift
that can happen in the grocery store
or paddling
(a very inconvenient time for inspiration)
it happens in conversation.
In which, I get a certain look
and am handed a pad of paper,
by observant friends.

Before the Rikii MuZe
contract was signed,
I was on fire,
writing on butcher papered doorways,
wipe and erase boards, chalkboards even
on any scrap of paper I could find,
my house littered with them
and notebooks started, lost,
a new one started and lost!

But in that time of chaotic creativity
Rikii MuZe was born, his name brainstormed
on a June day...
with my closest friend,
bouncing the spewing nonsense back to me,
while paddle boarding.
His name had to be just right,
I don't even think
I realized the responsibility
at the time, it was just fun!
We'd laugh, knowing right away NO that's not it,
it had to fit and be the name of a poet,
a poet extraordinaire.
Wanting to incorporate lyric or limerick or rhymes,
some poetic reference!

Wish, I could remember the other names,
but I don't, only the moment I said his name out loud
on the west side of the island,
standing in the middle of the lake...
it was a 110 degree day and I GOT the chills,
and knew it was right!
Rikii MuZe, with two i's like bunny ears
and muse with a capital Z.
I had found him and he had found me.

This is the magic!
The magic, I am looking for this morning.
Hmm? Wondering if
those fuzzy fleece cloud patterned pants
will provide inspiration?
You know, like if one is 'reaching for the sky,'
it will be more likely to occur while
wearing cloud pants. Right?
I put them on , grab another cup of coffee
and close the door on the mopey popey dog!

And...still nothing!

Back to the story:
In the months to follow,
there were many more moments to match that one!

A list of funny names begin rattling in my head
collected from wherever they come from!
Tuttle Pod's name inspired by an email
from Tuttle and Page,
(some business I have yet
to get another e mail from????)
My hippie gypsy friend and mother of four told me
a story about a make believe
character her child believed in.
With the very complicated name of Toe Dee Knony,
(took awhile to figure out the spelling on that one.)
Another friends misspelled name gave me, Jillie Gee!
My favorite poet turned into Rumi Roo
and on it went.

I had so many ideas
soon, I was running from papered door to papered door,
scribbling the ideas as THEY chased me down.
"Wait, wait, I would yell I am out of paper!"

NOW! It's an hour later,
the sun is up and still nothing...
oddly enough, 'rabbits' have taken over the yard,
hopping here and there and everywhere!
The plain beige ones
that don't get Rikii's polka dotted pinkness.
Called Willy Nilly and TanDum Jack,
UGH, are they all taunting me?

Hmmm! Maybe my lucky race bandanna will help,
the one with the cross bones and skulls,
and of course the socks that match!!
Right away, I know these clothing additions
are NOT going
to provide any 'word juice' other than
probably... Arghhh!

So anyways the story:
Soon, I had 22 animal names,
a clear concept of Rikii's qualities
and philosophies and an outline of four stories.
At that time, it was ALL I could think of!

A road trip the end of June,
with my funny bright best friend, Mary Lou,
that should have
taken only six hours and instead lasted ten!
With nine U turns or more, we ended up in Mexico,
rather than our destination, San Diego.
But in the process...
we manage to connect the names to all the animals
and although lost more often than not,
magic was definitely on board for that trip!

So? Do I NEED to take a ten hour trip then?
Have paper ready at the drop of a thought,
wake up in the middle of the night
nagged by something, that won't let me sleep....
I guess so because....

Sitting here in my fuzzy cloud pants,
lucky skull and cross bones race bandanna on,
(& matching socks)
with the perfect cup of coffee,
and tattered rhyming dictionary at the ready,
while a whole family of rabbits multiplies
before my eyes,
is getting me nothing....
nata... no magic.

Its 7 and time to begin my other life
and all I wrote is this blah, blah blog
about the process or rather
the un~process of beginning!

So I decide to....

Pam Piper Rain

Thursday, December 1, 2011

A Retrospective Beginning (Prologue)

Words have magic!
Add an illustration to that
(or in the other order)
and you have something of wonder,
that could stay
with someone for years!

I KNOW this
because I have always loved children's books,
I poured over them,
taking the imagination destination ride,
devouring and committing
most, almost all of them, to memory.
Knowing early on...
the craft of
poetry and pictures was
an art form, unrivaled!

Dr. Seuss, was my unknowing mentor,
my illustrative rhyming hero!
Never really wanting to be him,
only to indulge in his delightful tales
read out-loud at any age
to 'anything' with ears!
(mostly my cats)

If we are lucky, we remember
who we really ARE
and are designed to be...
as children and THEN hopefully as adults
(and whenever that path becomes muddy)
we can look there for the answers,
to that ever guiding star,
leading back to our earliest passions!

I loved to write,
it was my natural language
(more so then the verbal one.)
And I was a devoted critic of illustrations
and cartoons.
Only because I knew what I liked!
(Bright colors, heavy outlines)

Although, my wide eyed angelic drawings
called Krippets were adored by my small hometown,
(yes, that is glitter in their hair. geeez!)
my fellow college students and professors saw them
as an artistic failure and an embarrassment.
(Paintings with Rainbows? Seriously)
But, I managed to graduate
(somehow) and
after teaching awhile, here and there
I took the chance and stepped out on my own.

Eventually, turning from a love for
highly realistic and detailed oils,
to a series of surrealistic and a dramatic images
in an exploration of religion and sexuality.
(Also, fairly angelic in nature...hmmm?)

Which, I worked on incessantly for years (and years,)
seeking that unattainable perfection...
until I finally, pulled them off the stretchers,
rolled them up and hid them (to date)
in my closet!

I was surprised in 1990
that I could actually sell my inspirational poems!
Ones taken directly
from my heart wrenching, self serving,
semi sniveling journals and with great shyness (and risk)
page by page, calligraphy by hand, placed on torn paper,
and mounted on mat board, I labored with love!
(My hands still hurt to remember that time.)

When I got over my antiquated philosophy
that "computers were the "anti art."
I found I had an amazing tool with which to
not only write,
but enhance my well as Voila',
print them myself and by the dozens,
with just a touch of a button (and a mouse)!

Then a series of petrogylph like characters found a following
with the use of bright whimsical color
and meaningful sayings.
It seems, I had created my first faceless stick people
that would become simple symbols of joy
dance and...all of "humanity."

As an avid cat lover, couldn't resist
adding some smirky feline designs and poems
called Brat Cats,
Then I rescued my first dog
and was 'puppy inspired.' (For life.)

Meanwhile, the non gender petrogylphs
became decidedly female,
with animal print clothing
and could only be called, Wild Women.
Faceless femininity, celebrating
our 'getting older and our getting bolder',
and the 'girlfriends' we travel the journey with.
Here, I found they had more meaning
more appeal, when I added
a ryhming poem to them!

The serious poetry continued
but in the background
and more for my private journaled musings!
And then for the Magnetic Women series.

In an effort to be taken more seriously
as a painter, maybe even a FINE art painter
(cause for some reason,
I bristled when called an illustrator!)
An ethereal and less controlled style
was attempted
and I wanted to tell short cryptic clever stories
with these (again) faceless ladies!
Which have proven to be my all time
favorite style and series!
With ten total in the collection,
I have yet to part with any of the originals
at this time.... for ANY price!

In due course, I found myself
with my own card/print company.
I wrote, designed, published,
painted, framed, marketed, packaged,
promoted, distributed
and 'schlepped' my sh—-, um, work
around to art shows
and retail stores across the country...
for...well... forever!

A contract with Blue Mountain Art
helped for awhile!
Then suddenly, it was twenty one years later,
and I was tired...very tired!

At which point, I was up to ten different collections
and possibly over 400 published designs.
(The Wild Women designs at nearly 90!)

Although, I continued to love children's books,
collecting them for my 'childless home'
and displaying them in my office.
(Which resembles a small children's library!)
I had no plans to ever write one!
Everyone seemed to want to do that
and it was too much of a cliche
to even utter it out loud or consider!

Yet, through a series of magical events
I discovered...
this is exactly what I was meant to do...
what I was always destined to do
and it took this long to know,
this long to believe...
this long to begin!

And I am doing so because
two English gentlemen
saw a white/pink polka dotted rabbit
on a Wild Women painting
last April, at a show and asked,
"have you ever thought
about doing a children's book?"
I don't remember my answer...!

So, I find myself
beyond humbled (and terrified) by the opportunity
to 'maybe' create images and words that
will be held in such long lasting and equal wonder
as 'Green Eggs and Ham' and 'Ping' did for me!

In an attempt to document this journey,
(and return to the practice of writing)
I have revamped my blog page... (finally!)

And the first page of that story!

Pam Piper Rain

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Seed

Then the day arrives...
and you know its time,
time to let go
and turn away from...
when the whisper in your ear
becomes a shout
and it's all you can hear
you recognize it
because its been stalking you
and it sits in your belly
like a weight needing flight
holding on is no longer
the option,
truth and hope wear
a new outfit now,
and you want
to scream why? why?
and more why's?
until your voice is ragged
and there is only
silence in reply
and your fingers tremble
as you lift them
in a gesture of release
and what ever it is
flutters away in a flurry
to be free
your raised eyes
see it
knows it's what you
were waiting all along finally do
and the seed of surrender
takes root!

Pam Piper Rain

If you found this poem
and this blog today...
you were meant to.
Peace surrounds you!

Monday, April 11, 2011


Tempe Race Day!
It has its own breed of anticipation,
that which is imagined
and expected with historic
reasoning for a spring race... too much sunshine on skin
in shades of various reds,
lots of water, colorful chairs, the preview of
other teams enviable jersey designs,
a tunnel of high fives
to greet our many dock exits,
maybe even pinwheels and hula hoops,
but definitely tank tops, flip flops
Julie's (John's mom) now famous cookies,
and excited gleeful smiles on new
and seasoned racers greeting one another,
tons of medals, pictures and teammate-ship.
(not really a word but I like it!)

But it didn't exactly go that way!

Its 5:00 am race day we are up early,
maybe too early
when the hotel door is opened
to the sound and sight of pouring rain.
Naively, hopefully, we want the forecast
to be wrong and calls are made seeking
a desired 'cancelled' confirmation.
Because we are desert paddlers and simply?
We don't do rain!
Unless there is lighting the Race is ON!
We, my party of four,
keep our eyes to the sky for any sign!

Soon, it is evident that some of us are
more prepared than others,
also, some of us are inclined
to whine more than others,
and mental notes are
made for who will win the
Whiners Award! ( a pacifier)
it's a clear choice, without any contender.
( I won't mention her name here, ha)

So on we go, trudging our usual
abundant collection of accessories,
it seems all paddlers need for the day,
chairs, food, tents and stuff
we can not do with out for 6 hours!
Dragging it to our little patch
of soggy real estate at the top of the grassy knoll!!

It's grim, it's gray,
it's wet, it's cold
40 something for a typical 90 degree day
in April and there is no lighting in sight!
Pure misery?

Would seem so,
but this is what happens...
clothes are shared,
paddlers do without so
someone else can be
a bit more comfortable,
we sit in cars a lot
with the unpleasant smell of wet neoprene,
but are retrieved when our race is up,
we give up any
and all sense of fashion and
take after Anita's paddling version
of bag ladies,
for tolerable almost warmth,
people stay even tho WE all want
to drive home...
to sunny temps knowing if anyone leaves
others won't be able to race.
(That's commitment. )
We tease one another
and thank those who were talked into this
"its so much FUN" event, for coming!
Good with whatever seat is given
after many calculated reformatting
from Sara and her race chart,
now very shredded and wet.

There is still the high five tunnel off the dock
cause the host team is happy, encouraging
and grateful for every team that showed,
and stayed to play and paddle.
Most of THEM are traditionally barefoot..brrr!

A generous guest paddler
returns with two boxes
of hot coffee, and becomes
every ones best friend and hero!
The turns are flawless, lanes widened,
one of us steering most of the races,
two, the rest... and another,
for the first time!
We all rally and greet other teams
with happy
"great to see you's"
we share food, clothes, tents,
blankets with them
and Yes, Julie's famous cookies.
A sweet distraction as we huddle together like
prairie horses against the wind.
"What the hell, give me another cookie."

For myself I wore a big blue
kite like tarp, resembling Violet Beauregarde
(the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka's story)
it was goofy but it cut the wind!
And everyone wanted that poncho
when I left it behind to race!
Didn't' care that my hair
was stuck to my head,
mascara running,
or that the tips of my fingers
were frozen off or
was developing a rash from being in wet clothes
too long.
Decided to say, YES, to whatever,
while enjoying who was who
just by their ankles and eyes,
cause thats all that was showing.
Steered my first race in three miles of rain
deceptively telling the crew
"we are almost there!"
Was won over by MJ's hobbling attendance
after a knee surgery just to support us.
Loved that the host team
asked if we really had two 69 year old novices?
Yes we do!!!
Enjoyed a co ed race that was an exciting
cat mouse chase game,
that had everyone on their feet
wondering who would take it.
(It felt like first all the way!)
Loved that Carol brought the pinwheels
and John's mom always remembers.

And that as abundant as the rain,
the goosebumps and the cold crinkled faces
and blue lips, were bright smiles
and warmth and medals!
(one for everyone that raced)
...that there was that familar
feeling of "family,"
the one that has carried
many of us, over years
and years of "paddletics" and conflict
to continue to be devoted
to a crazy sport we love,
in sometimes crazy conditions, like today...
with crazy people we ultimately
end up loving as well.

WHY? Because its what we do
and as Kuba our tireless race director
would say, "its all good"...
and today ...was proof!

Pam (Piper Rain)

Monday, March 7, 2011

Bumps and Rain

Its starts with a seed
an inspiration,
and I believe it comes to more
than one person at a time,
whose ready, whose paying attention?
Whose going to run with it?

I love what the poet Ruth Stone said
about this,
"as a child in the fields of Virginia,
she could feel and hear
a poem coming at her
from over the landscape,
like this thunderous
train of air, she had one thing to do
and that was run like hell
to the house to get
that poem down on paper,
if she missed it,
it would continue on in search...
of another poet."

Having thought the same thing
since I was a child...
I had never heard it put like that!

My idea, was called Paddles and Pinwheels!
A playful (always ten)
way to not grieve but celebrate the life
of my very feisty, funny, sassy, sparkly
and missing friend Jennifer Andrews.
Who loved paddling, Easter baskets
of pinwheels, bubbles and candy necklaces.

After she left I was challenged with
the question...
how was I going to live?
Not just live but really LIVE?
That exploration turned into
a life's philosophy,
and I felt required to share it.

This would be the second annual event
of Paddles and Pinwheels
and it would bring
paddlers together,
all paddlers, for a playful event
that required a pinwheel
on all the water crafts
and a parade of 'wheees' on the lake.
Jennifer's favorite saying...
(Yes, we were 'wheeing' long before
Maxwell from the Gieco
commercial showed up!)
And a pinwheel garden of dedication!
Where a pinwheel could be tagged for
the celebration of someone/anyone loved!

So we get an inspiration,
which is fun and exhilarating...
its the buzz in the belly
that keeps you awake at night,
that universal magnet
that tugs and pulls and won't let go!
That one thought that won't leave you alone!
Yaay ...then what?

Follow Through!
The keep on, keeping on part
the research, the purchases
(like the suction cups I had to buy
that only came in a box
of three hundred and fifty!
Good grief...really?)
The social networking required,
(that some might say 'enough already'
with P nP!)
Then come the mornings
where the first thought is
Holy Crap! What was I thinking?
I can't do this,
I don't have time or the resources!

Then the spirit
of my very bossy friend, Jennifer
would come through,
not softly or subtly
but loud and clear.
"Come on girlfriend,
just get on your big girl panties
and do it."

So I did!
But not without a lot
of bumps... and rain!

The night before the "first" scheduled
Paddles and Pinwheels.
Fifteen wonderful people gathered to
assemble and tag almost 200 pinwheels.
The living room was covered
with blue, pink, and green twirly whirls.
After everyone left I sat with
my biggest supporter of the event, Mary Lou!
(She fielded a lot of panicked text messages)
As we gazed at the bouquet of pinwheels
on garden sticks she says very profoundly,
"everyone should be loved this much."

Yes, indeed!

The next morning woke up
to pouring rain...
so bummed...had to cancel that day
and the following weekend of more rain.

Evidently, I didn't get to choose
the date for this...
But March 5th was the gift
of the perfect windless calm water day
I had pictured all along.

So humbled to have forty
some paddlers show up,
grateful to my Outrigger club for all the help
and support for this silly adventure
(that requires some work and time on their part)
and to everyone who made
a donation to the Hospice!
(we also made 150. in donations)

This is part of what I said
after Jens story and 'thank you's,'

Cancer sucks! Not much more to be said

about it than that.

We have all been wounded by it

and grieved loved ones!

But if we learn to live better

because of it...

Cancer has some value! SOME!

And those who have crossed over

having fought that great fight,

have given us the invaluable gift

of their lives...

as a reminder to always

celebrate these temporary moments

with wonder and grace.

Jennifer's wish and mine would be,

to see this one precious and wild Life of yours

as a ride, an adventure,

live a BIG life

and as often as possible find

the moments that require

an impulsive uncontainable WHEEE

from start to finish,

seek the kind of laughter

that makes you stop breathing

and cross your legs just in case...

take uncensored chances,

dance on main street if you

get asked and even if you don’t,

create stories worth telling,

believe love never really leaves,

find friends you’d cross an ocean for

and hold on to miracles

and magic with an infallible faith

that never ceases to amaze!

Cause what if this IS

all we really have...this moment!

Ask yourselves will you embrace it

with a woe or a whee?

So it was a beautiful day
with hula hoops, bubbles,
lots of smiling, bright, happy people
who love a paddle in hand,
sharing stories
and a moment of beauty on the water
remembering to celebrate the temporary!

The best moment came
when a large flock of ducks/Coots
were interrupted by our parade
noisily scattering to get out of our way,
as paddles and pinwheels and 'whees'
invaded their space!
Don't think the ducks felt
very 'whee" about it!

Next year, I hope it catches on
and gets bigger
We still have pinwheels and suction cups left
and the work is mostly done
so my 'Holy CRAP' moments
will be fewer.

But what I really hope
is this idea is in the wind,
and coming across the landscape
on a thunder of air
for someone else to catch
in their net of thoughts
and pinwheels begin
to show up everywhere!
And the celebration begins!

Pam Piper Rain

Photos by Tina Benson