Momentary Wind Commentaries

           It's not as if the little breezes left no pattern in the flickering leaves and yet for some notion me thinks it accelerated it's own ambiance.  Operatic values touched down momentarily on the earthen floor, leaving no trace of either floor or ceiling values.
   One could only guess or surmise that something was afoot.  Yes, you can wander in thought but lest you forget we have spent a few years now with encrusted nuances prevailing in the political landscapes of time.  We could of easily made attempts to follow, just briefly to test out the yellow brick road offered to us in the phrase "Yes We Can", instead of the variable verbal menageries of tea drinkers.
    We could use a little change in the weather, trying as best we can to go back to the trails we left behind in order to control the directions that the wind had offered in it's little soliloquy's as they brushed up against our cheeks.
    There is justice in peace, balancing the effervescent flow of financial equality.  Build a school someone said and shut down a prison.  Why is fulfilling everyone's dream such a difficult matter to adjust to.  We don't need to condemn the weather pattern, just sit back and enjoy the outcomes, instead of causing such a ruckus and turning the default messages into rather oblique tragedies like Katrina, Afghanistan and Austerity Planning like the European Union.
    Mother Nature is not out to get us, but rather an ally in our journey through space and time.  

Go tell it on the mountain....

            Time went too easily pass my ears, though it wasn't a second thought that touched home plate, it was the reflections of my multidimensional self that eluded my inquires.  You just don't forget the horseplay and the joviality in the downplay of the circumstances.
            Soapboxes become clear as each of these cast of one supplies the imagery to their looming coincidence of speaking to one another in front of a national crowd.  We only hope that one of them steps up and really sounds out a visual from the vantage point of being on the mountain.  A sermon, or preaching to a choir in some distant disarray, hoping to catch a public unaware or asleep at the wheel is not the hope we want to envision.
             This is not the time for brevity or zingers, but one of momentary repasts, and looking toward a feeling of promise, not alluding, I guess, to making one, but of standing out among the madness and disillusion that has created the pauses in integrity, and allow the creative initiatives that are at our beckon call.  Wilderness still exists on that exalted mountain we have climbed so often in the past.  It is no longer a time to whittle, but to dig deep into our souls and create, as bipartisan as we can as a nation, to allow us, and the global consciousness to again come up with a battle cry to do better than we have the last for years.
            As my father-in-law once said, "Come to Papa...."