Author: Jeff Shapiro

Today, I have a date with a hummingbird…
I have found that being alone with a hummingbird can change my whole perspective…
For me there is nothing more refreshing…
Except, maybe, a nice roll in the grass.

Hummingbirds live in a world of harmony…
With easy swells and swirls…
You will never find them puzzled over some worn out map…
Because they have no destination in particular.

Their wings are scrolled with beautiful blues and greens…
Their necks soaked in reds…
Hopping from one bush to the next…
With no need for spires or temples.

I tell my friend, “If you like, you can kiss my nose…”
Let’s separate this picture from everything else…
Drift away into nothingness…
Over a deep blue lake.

Humans can be such strange creatures…
With all their worries and fears…
But the hummingbird has given me some advice to share…
Worries only block the views to the sea.

I love you,

Annie

Did you know that you have wings?
Isn’t that what you have always wished for?
But to see your wings you first have use them…
And take that first step into flight.

Watch me!

I bounce into flight off the soft springy earth…
As if never more to feel fatigue…
Taking short flights about once every minute…
Guided by “Butterfly light.”

So, let’s together find your wings…
Go together to the mountains so you can see…
Doesn’t everything feel like you have somehow been here before…
Skipping from peak to peak.

To fly is perfectly natural…
Consider soaring through the clouds…
Taking a trip to a far away land…
All with one simple act of love.

To travel through the universe you must sit up taller and grip tighter…
What a place to soar!
Imagine being with a friend no matter how far away…
You can be there this very minute!
Close your eyes, feel them near, spread your wings and pick up your phone.

Now, time to go, I have an important meeting on the other side of the world!

I love you,

Annie

With boundless joy, I welcome the morning star…
How glorious is the greeting of the sun…
Wiping away the marks of yesterday’s mud…
Swallowing yesterday’s story.

Exposing the thoughts watching me from the deep shadows…
Showing all the litter than has accumulated in my brain…
Telling me that today I am starting with a clean slate…
And I have the opportunity to flow with the natural current of the universe.

She tells me that I am strong enough to make the crossing…
I’m safe from all the bristly things…
I can breathe deeply of the spicy odors…
And allow the eternal waterfall to sing her chorus.

All this while the procession of the world moves on…
Intrigued by doom, afraid to turn off the news…
Judgment! Judgment! Judgment!
Haven’t they learned that judgment always returns to its source?

Today I am aimed in only one direction…
Not needing to wonder what will happen next…
Because my little life is too short…
To miss a single moment.

And now, shhh! The wind is blowing me to sleep.

I love you,

Annie

With just a splash of the divine light…
Everything becomes illuminated with bright patches of love…
Like the wings of a campfire…
Showing me that my bruise has long ago disappeared completely.

This light never leaves any footprints…
Yet, afterward, I no longer feel like a poor little beast…
My skin starts to tingle from the spectacular views…
And I lay down in the wild, spiky, blue.

But then I forget, focusing on the yet to come ghosts…
Every gone thing coming back around again…
The world has a salty tone…
And the distances become much greater from West to East.

Yet, still, deep inside I can still hear the forest ringing…
Reminding me that my worrying thoughts are a very weak testimony…
Not enough evidence for any jury…
Dismissed by any judge.

So, why do I try to paint the red flowers, white?
Why do I turn my life into thoughts that are oblong and flat…
When the divine light is here, I’m carried away by a soft wind…
To the place I’m meant to be.

I love you,

Annie

There is always a little fire when I dream…
I am irresistibly drawn to it…
I stare endlessly at the iridescence of its red throat…
Watching its embers rise like balloons.

Around this fire everything seems curious…
It makes me wonder who I am…
You know, in my dreams I can be anyone…
I choose to be a small yellow dog with short legs.

Sometimes I feel dreams are not myself…
They are like the tide bringing ashore the good and the bad…
There are styrofoam cups and empty plastic bottles…
Together with the glorious seashells.

My job, by the order of my author…
Is to return to my primal self…
To be a pattern for this world…
And each morning, when the nighttime fire fades to a crimson stain…
Tell myself, there is nothing I can’t do.

No, dreams are not a trick of the light…
Even though when we are in one, we don’t know where we are…
They are where we join the one vast wind…
And dry ourselves of our dampness.

I love you,

Annie

I love the splashes from a fountain…
Knowing each song that they sing…
The songs are never quite the same…
Because each day they add a new poetic verse.

Today they are saying to me that it is okay to be vulnerable…
That is how I will capture the light…
And glisten in the soft sun…
And draw water from my well.

That life shouldn’t always be the same…
Stuck between imaginary boundaries…
Inviting me to follow only my intuition…
To the place where the waters divide.

I have only to choose to change my energy…
The well-groomed way will take me back home…
The other way will lead to tracts of undeveloped freedoms…
A place where the meadows are painted with bright strokes of yellows and green.

The fountains sing of this great secret…
As their prisms of light lift the wings of the hummingbirds…
They understand that we never need to arrive…
We just need each day to add a new verse.

I love you,

Annie

I have a confession to make…
My best friend is a female skunk named Stinky…
I’m not sure how she got her name because she smells lovely to me…
She lives in the thicket…
Scurrying around in black and white confusion.

Always huffing and puffing, but with a refreshing point of view…
Like, “Aren’t’ bugs something pretty both inside and out?”
Outside with their beautiful colors…
Inside with their delicious chocolatey flavors.

When she thinks of something profound, her eyes light up with a golden twinkle…
She says, “it is a reflection from the golden alpines…”
She often talks, without explanations…
Because, for her, it is always teatime.

She told me that there is a lot more to life than just the first verse of the story…
That once a king or queen, always a king or queen…
That I should always choose the foreground for my sketches…
And continue inward until I reach, the fields full of snow flowers.

If you ever find her don’t be alarmed…

She will often just sit and stare at you…
She is waiting for your crown to come into view…
She will tell you to stop searching for answers…
Because they only happen when you stop looking for them.

We love you,

Annie and Stinky

I had a conversation with Father Time…
He took me to vast tracts of uncharted territory…
Deeper and deeper into the bush belt…
A place where the waves crash forever and ever on the rocky shores.

He showed me how time just keeps stretching and stretching…
To places, where every peak disappears from view…
Cursed with certainty…
All evidence supporting an unknown conclusion.

In my opinion there are so many better conversations…
Father time is a poor conversationalist…
Better to talk with the clouds, who allow you to enter their rest…
Or with the happy winds visiting from far away lands…
But my best conversations are when I lay in the tall grass and let the conversation grow around me.

So, let’s have a cup of tea and a biscuit…
Pretend that we are kings and queens…
Whenever a difficult issue arises…
Let’s dunk it and be done with it.

Ok, have you guessed the riddle?
I think so because your face has started to glow…
Has this conversation touched the deeper part within you?
Because, to our ageless tender hearts there is no such thing as time.

I love you,

Annie

My table is always set for a great many more…
Full of a blend of so many colors…
I don’t have to think about what comes next…
I am to busy smiling.

Watching the weaver, weave,,,
I am just one strand of it all…
See, how She uses everything completely…
O weaver, come to my table and tell us a tale.

Each meal is just like in the olden days…
We each tell each other, “I have returned!”
It is followed by, “Is that really you?”
Yes, it is true, you can reclaim the lost years.

Old planks and mud bricks…
Put together with each toast and each course…
When we sing, we sing loudly and slowly…
Feeling the way the universe has made us to feel.

Ah, finally my words have drawn you here…
Now, stop stressing about finding the answer?
You know, only a few have ever found it before…
It’s right here at my table.

It can also be at yours!

I love you,

Annie

The earth is one big picture…
A warm and compassionate picture…
Mostly lovable…
Difficult to those who do not respect Her

So, be like me and accept the distant views…
Step inside the landscapes…
Run on the elevated plains…
Dive into the meadows filled with flowers.

The earth’s picture is stark and soft at the same time…
It pulls my heart into pieces then puts it back together again…
Oh, look at the sunset…
The magician is using Her wand once again.

Yet, outside this picture is the hissing of brakes…
Piles of rusty bolts…
Quicksands for the unweary…
Everything and everyone stressed.

Instead, you can step inside into earth’s picture…
Stop chasing your tail (if you have one…)
Cease the endless pursuit of riches and glory…
Secret…The treasure is buried in your own backyard.

I love you,

Annie