assume hope

i love this poem. i came across it yesterday while looking through my older posts, and since it's one of my absolute favourite poems ever, i wanted to share it again with my newer readers.

for those of you who've seen it already - it's worth the re-read!

yes, a dandelion
because they are the flower
of wishes. you blow that ball
of seeds and the wind carries them to the one
assigned to grant or reject
and it's a good thing
that it's the dandelions
who have this power
because they are tough
and sometimes you have to be tough
to even remember
that you have any desires left at all,
to believe that only one
could be satisfied, would not turn
to an example of
"be careful what you wish for,
it might come true"
maybe that's exactly why
there are so many of them --
the universe gives us extra chances
to keep dreaming
each one an uprising,
a burst of colour
in the cracks of our hearts
sunrise
at an unexpected time,
in an unexpected place.

by Ellie Schoenfeld; exerpted from Getting to Maybe : How the World is Changed by Frances Westley,
Brenda Zimmerman and Michael Quinn Patton

image via urban design

quiet(ish) post

{for today, here's my take on miss julia's quiet post}

As a child I walked
with noisy fingers
along the hemline
of so many meadows
back home

Green fabric stretched out
shy earth
shock of sky

I'd sit on logs like pulpits
listen to the sermon
of sparrows
and find god in Simplicity
there amongst the dandelion
and thorn

as i walked by jewel kilcher
image via ann wilkinson

where the sidewalk ends

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes - we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark; and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

- Shel Silverstein

photo by mjmatt