they say "a watched pot never boils"..but that's just a misleading statement made to a curious child. It does boil, even if you're watching it. It might be more productive to chop the vegetables and throw in spices along the way, checking up on it naturally as you flow into a cooking routine. A good meal, like anything, takes love and time to be palatable...like what you're describing in this piece.
so anyway, yea..this is a nicely painted diagram of the growth process. It views like a nice watercolor. But it could also be describing the patience and nurturing required for any sort of goal or aspiration..so in that way it's universal [see review where I describe the true essence of simplicity].
The meaning can be be anything - what life offers, and this tells me: I need to be patient. And a dream lexikon says:To dream of seed, foretells increasing prosperity, though present indications appear unfavorable.
sweet small poem.
Ah, I suspect you are writing of your children.
The one or two I have read about are a joy
and I wonder what would my life have been
should I have had a more thoughtful mother
as I imagine you to be.
We could be talking about peas here!
Love to you all,
Jack
The poem is wonderful. We plant seeds all through our walk in a life. We can grow and do great things or died alone in a empty field. No wasted words in your poem. A pleasure to read this morning.
Coyote
they say "a watched pot never boils"..but that's just a misleading statement made to a curious child. It does boil, even if you're watching it. It might be more productive to chop the vegetables and throw in spices along the way, checking up on it naturally as you flow into a cooking routine. A good meal, like anything, takes love and time to be palatable...like what you're describing in this piece.
so anyway, yea..this is a nicely painted diagram of the growth process. It views like a nice watercolor. But it could also be describing the patience and nurturing required for any sort of goal or aspiration..so in that way it's universal [see review where I describe the true essence of simplicity].
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..