The Hub Bubble Journal

 Silver embossed hairbrush is duplicated by the mirror its' laid upon for years, surrounded. Guided fingers gently trail around a regiment of trinkets, secrets carefully tucked away where loving eyes buried deeply treasured memories into pinewood dressing table drawer; softly lined with  delicate paper that once wore cascades of a fragrant rose; Pleated now and faded thin as tissue, fingertips breaking the fine layer of fluff causing its dispersal into the daylight rays projecting from the window to bounce each fleck of lint around the mirror, like tiny feathers lost from angel wings. Turning my head towards your picture the sunshine falls hard across my face.  There is no replacement for a person lost from us to this world but they shine through every part of our being. The warmth of a memory can live in any moment of our day.

  As far as an eye's stretch over the last lamb the flow of the heather sails flush against the sun; Belting out indigo waltzes hummed in tune with the wind turbines repeating whirl .. Sky to land, sky to land, sky to land, the last dance saved for the harvest moon. All the time layered between seed to plant creation of colour from the bee to the lover; From the slow, quick step, quick step, slow whipping air light spinning twirls... causing a fragrance to bleed  its flavour into the waking furrow. Nature can really dance aligned with us ... just know when the balance is right!

  A Childhood Memory A Children's Journey story Look at the sausage rope skies! When the air turns sour I look for cheese hanging over the cottages waiting in line. It's always laundry day there. The chickens know it and rejoice! Until the clatter of steel bins wakes mother. These ropes turn for skipping now sending out little bubble cars. Wouldn't it be glorious to jump on the roof? Flailing legs over the red tiles with propeller blade arms winding Bzzzrrpp Bzzzrrpp Bzzzrrpp Imagine how cross the hens would be if we landed on every brown egg. The old woman sang with the choir once. I heard her legs wobbled like thunder on a cold day until spring afternoon arrived on the porch. The sausage ropes have gone now, bled into the silky blues of the afternoon. Just as we reach the top of the hill  the sky is no longer our focus as eyes linger on the outstretched valley, deep bold green .. Oxygen for the heart's river! Breathe it in harsh until the vision is set ... This is the...

 When the seasons divide bringing air to rush mouths to halt mid-yawn at thunder's clatter; As energy subsides to fear of morning's hush, winding limbs recoiling causing dreams to shatter. When ordained skies move as one with the earth, in that second when all is in view on life's horizon; Laid bare, caressed of hope transparent, undisturbed; In that brief interlude, in that copse of heaven smiling. That is when our bond lives outside of earthly realm. That is where our love is molten gold and shining .. Where shadows sweep and search high for our gem; There is our sacred altar where our hearts lay as diamonds. It is such a good feeling to know that to describe a feeling in a certain way can bring another person to complete understanding and recognition. The best part is knowing we are united with humility.

 As the dusk arrives and the moss gathers on a thousand pebbles; As the colour strips away from the peeling clouds; As the dark night doubts, for just one second, before he allows the first star to splash its delight, lifting the darkness to the boon of twilight which draws the empty soul out from under the covers that are the tranquil mask over day; As the ocean falters on its decision and shakes hands with the moon as he turns on his projector; As the earth begins to shiver with heavy eyelids, unable to throw her glory into the prevailing light shimmer; As the moment of whispers and secrets is revealed as an audience sleeps; That's when all questions are answered. Accepting all that is as it is, relenting to the understanding that we can control but we are not in control. Man did not create the universe. That brings to bear its glory.

 You told me that the butterfly would always bring me news, Your presence I could count upon if she did dance around my shoes. When I woke up I wished for one to bring you close to me, Then as I sat out in the sun she sought to land upon my knee. Now my eyes pool silver rain as I look down to greet  A splendid butterfly ballet all spritely around my feet. We don't always see what or who is around us in our every day pursuits or take the time to realise just how beautiful and important every being we are connected to is. How wonderful to know this presence even though it may not be in our immediate gaze.