Salt spray

Illustration by Warwick Goble to Beauty and th...
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Photo of cinderella fairy tale in Efteling
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Fairy Tale
Fairy Tale (Photo credit: jpverkamp)

Holding back the tears of

a lifetime

a wife time.

What gave you the right to pick my heart?

Hold it, caress it

like a gentle flower

Breathe it in…

Then toss it away in the next hour?

The salty spray floods

down my face,

my bosom,

my torso.

I am not the character in the fairy tale

who gets younger as she cries copious tears…

I do not get younger and have the wrinkles

fall away with my tears.

I simply remain.



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“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.”

― Jack KerouacOn the Road


– Sunny Goswami

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Gentle snow, gentle voices, gentle love

Martel and van Over have friends for dinner an...
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English: Blowing snow, Creag Mhigeachaidh Even...
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The forecasted blizzard

is a gentle snow

when viewed from the inside

of a loving home

safe, warm, protected, secure

out harms way of the storm.

Gentle voices,

sharing the day,

the struggles,

the joys,

the victories

comfort an aging heart.

Gentle love,  of a young child

upon a knee

(telling stories to her real imaginary friend

sharing countless hours with a visiting relative)

 healing a heart

that has been closed for too many centuries.

For the moment,

the snow, the gentle voices and the laughter of a child

fill the old crone’s heart.

Treasures to wrap carefully away for

the rainy days on the trail ahead. 

The mountain of God…the hiding place…great faith moves mountains…..pick one…..

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The mountains stand waiting.

Firm, frosty, forgiving.

They call to me.

Fervently, familiar, fondly.

They sing to me.

Serene, soothing, sacred songs.

They call to me.

Caverns, cutbanks, caves cooling me.

They call me home.

Holding healing helping heart aches roll away.

Here in this sacred cabin

in the  forest I rest.





Rejoice in the calling of the mountain.

Calling me home. 

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Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in this case the climber…..


This past summer in Yosemite Valley, California, I sat in a meadow and watched the clouds pass over half dome. The valley was slowly but surely starting to cool once again. Late summer brings way to fall. Soon the waterfalls would be drying and frozen. Snow will come and cover the plants with perfect ribbons of white. I want to be there now, I close my eyes and I can almost imagine it. It is in my dreams and it is engrained into my DNA. It is the place that changed my life forever.

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