Out of the Wood

December 11, 2017

 The Driftwood Series...

Imagine for a minute, that you can see each of these pieces as it was in its original state....  Was it once a tree, or a plant, or a root?  Whatever it was landlocked as for a time, the common thread in each piece is that they all broke free of their bondage to earth, the soil, the rocks, or sand that held them in their lively place.  Imagine each piece as it breaks free and sets out on a new adventure through the water along the current.  Perhaps, this journey is continuous or maybe it stayed in a new home buried under water for awhile.  Each piece has shed its skin of bark and become a new thing with a different composition.  May each one represent a unique image to you...  I invite your feedback on what you see.  I have named each piece according to what it reminds me of, and I want to leave you with clues.....  I will reveal their titles at a later time.




Majestic is He... his breath even makes a heart pound.  He is of the land, while set apart... Go Forth...Go Forth...




 The work toils on...time to get going....he cries out!  Positively, I come to encourage and protect, and remind you that the sun continues to rise for you, so rise to it....



 -a footstamp, a trophy, a  game, a wellspring of luck...

-the door of life...

What hat do you wear today?  Saint Dunstan doesn't care if you are up or down.. If you face down, may the luck pour down onto you, if you face up, may your luck never run out... Either way, may no evil pass under you, so I will hang you over the door....



How you tease with your mystery...  such a tiny window into the big picture,

a tiny circular invitation into something....

                                               into somewhere....

Am I on the outside looking in?

Am I on the inside looking out?

So many questions to the answers...

You lie between where I stand and where I may go...



















































On one side is he and the other side is she... His whispers come in like a dagger or a threat, but her whispers come soft like sweet light gentle puffs.... 




Until we meet again,



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