Good memories that even now can heal.
Those mornings when I laddered to the loft,
made my straw manger beside the square bale door.
There on the straw-strewn floor,
a sundial of slanted light.
I’d reach my child’s palm into it,
hold sunspill like rain.
– Ron Rash, Above the Waterfall
Notes:
- Quote: Thank you Memory’s Landscape. Photo: Thank you Your Eyes Blaze Out
- Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
- Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”
Live & Learn 
Looked at ray
filter through window that day
placed my hand to see
if light can be held as seen
one thing is clear to me
Life has moments to feel
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Feel! That’s it!
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I never cease to be amazed at the way you manage to find *the perfect* image to illustrate your post. Fabulous! (And the delight evoked by dust motes dancing in a sunbeam ain’t too shabby either!)
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Loved both the photo and the poem, beautiful, thanks Lori.
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magic in the palm of your hand.
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We’re so lucky to have good memories. Some people have very few of them.
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We are so lucky…
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Memories can help us pull through the roughest of times.
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They certainly can Roland. Thanks.
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Every once in awhile, I venture outside of Google+ to let you know that I really like one of your posts. This is one of those times! Have you tried Pablo from Buffer yet? You’ll love it…
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Thank you Todd. I haven’t checked it out. On my way now. Thanks for pointing me to it.
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I thought that was Katie for a second there (my granddaughter)… 🙂
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😀
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I especially love the last line.
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Me too Russ…
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And in a flash, all comes back. I still remember myself, being a small child, running through the bone dry white sheets that were hanging in the attic. I remember the smell of summer and fresh washed, dry linen. Thanks for bringing back the memory. Thanks for posting, David.
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What a wonderful memory. Thank you Christine.
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And in a flash, everything comes back. I remember myself, being a small child, running through the bone dry sheets, that were hanging in the attic. The smell of summer and fresh washed linen, Thanks for bringing back the memory. Thanks for posting, David.
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