Mike Frawley

If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were. Richard Bach

[samirafee]

#BÄRLI🐈MY PURRS ARE MEDICINE🎵

@samirafee

[thethingsiveseen-photography]

Hydrangea season, Interlaken, Switzerland.

[ends-2-beginnings]

A prayer for the people in Venezuela.

It is heartbreaking to see how desperate survivors are while waiting at the edge of the rubble clinging on God, hope and rescuers.

[followcb]

Floating Lotus Openness

quietness blossoms

infuses rooms with peace

pastel harmony . . .

the bliss of stillness

serenity of deep breaths

floating lotus openness

foreverness of timelessness

intimate connectedness

to time and space

graceful pastures . . .

soft places that grace

ethereal, spiritual scenery

streaming dreamy greenery

sunshowers upon wildflowers

inhale mother nature's . . .

elemental, univeral delights

presence of the divine

intangible yet eternal

emotional tranquility

petals in the wind . . .

alchemy of wonderment

rich landscapes of the mind

introspective bridges

profound inner clarity

faith blooming on the vine

burgeoning gardens inside

the heart and soul come alive

☆☆☆☆☆

©️ @followcb ☆ June 5, 2026

[t-h-e-flower-girl]

℘ɧơɬơɠrą℘ɧყ ცყ ɬ-ɧ-ɛ-ʄƖơῳɛr-ɠırƖ

[bluesandbarebones]

Lost at sea

I remember the mystery of the sea under an ink-black sky—no horizon to be seen, limitless darkness; a thick blanket of starless night, suffocating. How oblivious we were there on our floating universe. We thought of nothing but our next pleasure, our next constellation of flavors. How quickly we could have slipped into that bottomless deep without a witness, the sound of our bodies breaking the surface lost in the churning of the ship's propellers. Did we fall? Did we lose our footing on that shifting sea? Sometimes I feel the water rushing into my ears. Sometimes I speak and all you hear is the chaos of the waves. Written 6/6/2025 Revised 6/26/2026

[thethingsiveseen-photography]

Layers of the landscape, near Thermalquellen-Steg-Dalaschlucht, Switzerland.

[aprilfoolfrog]

Land of Fear

This job can be predictable.

Sometimes you get a lousy order

and you immediately see why they

didn't go get it themselves.

A whole section of the area was sealed off for the fireworks.

Typical for not tipping.

I had to go around the closed roads.

A three minute drive

turned into nine.

The fire works boomed as I

skided to a stop at the stop sign.

I do admit that I came up on it fast,

but I stopped immediately.

I didn't realize it was there.

I am not as familiar with this area.

We have been dashing in a different state -

it has actually made a huge difference.

Instead of our typical amount of

zero dollars,

we've been starting out with at least thirty.

The rate is higher, which make even the no tip orders tolerable.

A man was standing in the road,

blocking the road for oncoming traffic.

Crowds of people were sitting

on each side of the road -

watching the show in the sky.

A car pulled up to the stop sign

across from me.

I began to inch up but stopped abruptly

when the man began to pace around the street.

Sir, you're in the middle of the road

I began.

Why are you in the road? Please move.

The car across from me went,

as the man was just blocking my path.

Their lights reflected off of his badge.

Every inch of me tensed

as I was finally able to see the word: police

printed on his uniform.

I shut my mouth and watched him.

I suddenly felt stupid for saying that out loud.

Really, I felt scared despite the crowd surrounding me.

Hi.

I said. It came out awkward and high pitched.

"Hi. You going forward?"

I nodded. It was the only way to go.

"Okay, go slow."

The fireworks popped in the sky

as my anxiety skyrocketed.

This is sadly our reality.

A sense of danger felt

when an officer of the law is around.

I was not scared when

I thought he was a regular citizen.

Hell, I would have said it right to him.

I figured he was drunk or something -

enjoying the festivities.

Why are our police officers

blending into the night?

Why was he not wearing

any sort of reflective gear?

Why was it not easy

to identify he was an officer?

We know why.

Are they not supposed to be here

for our help and protection?

Are we not told to go to them for help?

They use their power

to control and scare us.

All I did was say something he

would of disliked.

It shouldn't be cause for alarm.

I should have the freedom to say it.

It's not harmful,

but people have been killed for less.

I am tired of this land of fear.

Written by aprilfool🐸

6/28/2026

[nobeerreviews]

How miraculously things contrary one to another concur to the beauty and perfection of this universe.

-- Marcus Aurelius

(Vatican)

[shamanfox]

[shamanfox]

✦ Field Notes from the Prairie ✦

4:48 A.M.

The rancher steps out into the dark carrying coffee in one hand and habit in the other. The stars are still burning above the pasture, but he barely notices. Not because he has stopped seeing them. Because he has seen them a thousand times over calving grounds, drought years, blizzards, branding fires, and springs that arrived late. Wonder, after enough years, becomes woven into the fabric of ordinary things.

5:17 A.M.

The cattle are shadows breathing steam into the cold. He moves among them quietly. No grand gestures. No performance. Just a presence they recognize. I watch the herd lift their heads as he passes. Not with affection. Not with fear. With familiarity. The way a river recognizes its banks.

5:46 A.M.

His hands catch my attention. Thick-knuckled, scarred, roughened by wire, leather, cold steel, frozen gates, and years of labor. Not damaged. Written upon. Every scar a sentence. Every callus a chapter. Hands that have pulled calves into the world and lowered old dogs into the earth. Hands that understand life and death as neighbors sharing the same fence line.

6:12 A.M.

As dawn begins to spill across the prairie, he pauses beside a gate and watches the horizon glow. No words. No ceremony. Just a man standing still while the world becomes visible again. It occurs to me that some prayers are spoken, and others are simply witnessed.

6:41 A.M.

The farmer drives slowly through a field. To me it looks like wheat. To him it is information. Moisture levels. Leaf color. Soil condition. Wind direction. Insect activity. He is reading a language hidden inside the landscape. The earth speaks continuously. Most people just never learn how to listen.

7:09 A.M.

A machine breaks down. Of course it does. The farmer climbs out, studies the problem, and sighs. Not dramatically. Just enough. There is no outrage. No personal offense. Reality has inconvenienced him again, and they have known each other long enough to stop arguing about it.

7:54 A.M.

The thing I notice most is their relationship with uncertainty. Most people spend their lives trying to eliminate it. Farmers and ranchers wake up inside it every morning. Rain may come. Rain may not. Markets rise. Markets fall. Calves survive. Crops fail. Hail arrives uninvited. Yet they continue planting, feeding, repairing, building, hoping. Not because they believe everything will work out. Because they understand that nothing living comes with guarantees.

8:37 A.M.

By now the sun hangs higher over the prairie. Dust drifts through shafts of light. A hawk circles overhead. Somewhere a gate clangs shut. The rancher leans against a fence for a moment before returning to work. Watching him, I realize resilience is not what most people think it is. It is not toughness. It is devotion. The willingness to keep tending what matters despite knowing how fragile it all is.

9:03 A.M.

Conclusion:

The prairie does not teach control. It teaches relationship. With weather. With animals. With uncertainty. With time itself. Farmers and ranchers spend their lives participating in forces far larger than themselves. Perhaps that is why so many carry a quiet wisdom. They know something the rest of us often forget: life is not something we conquer. It is something we care for while it passes through our hands.

[definegodliness]

Lessons of a Leafling

A little Leafling I did find Amid the napping phlox And though I might have lost my mind I do enjoy our talks.

She skips across my shoulders tall To pull at both my ears; She is as bossy as she's small And that's the way she steers.

Now some might ask how I abide: Why offer her the reins? It's fun to have a Leafling guide, Exploring new domains.

It's fun to know that ferns are brash (Though useless this will sound): They like to rock; at night they thrash And wildly mosh around.

To my surprise, a rose is shy, Whereas, hydrangeas? — "Vain." A cauliflower's humor's dry, And onions are insane.

Because it's I who wants to know She gets to pull my ears, But when the swallows fly too low She always disappears.

She doesn't like to get too soaked For then her hair will 'twine'… Her choice of words; my thoughts provoked: It's more than just a whine!

I contemplate the theory That Leafling stories end: 'Come rain she'll root into a tree, And then I lose my friend.'

I let the worries churn and churn, Until I fold in smiles: 'You acorn-brain, you never learn: No shoes; no walking miles.'

That's what she'd say, I am so sure; No cause for ill suspense… Unless the onions act obscure, That's Leafling common sense.

Now, I can't make the weather shift Or urge the sun to rush, But I can craft a little gift: A miniature brush.

For even if it rains for weeks I trust she will return; 'Don't get me started on the leeks!' There's still so much to learn.

--- 24-6-2026, M.A. Tempels ©

[followcb]

The Paradigm of Time

empowers devours

time the great

escape artist

always gets away

no going back

who knows the future

maybe tomorrow

is wise is insightful

no one can really say

live today, today

not yesterday

let it go, let it stray

time will be unkind

eventuality eternity

but in the meantime

live a life you love

let passion ignite

the trails you blaze

with each of your days

might you know the light

amid relative darkness

the paradigm of time

☆☆☆☆☆

©️ @followcb ☆ June 25, 2026

[aprilfoolfrog]

rose

in the garden

along the sliding

a rose continues to grow

despite the anger

despite the hardship

despite being on her own

despite thick grey skies

she drank the heavy rains

and grew more every day

the sun continues to rise

not only did she survive

she flourished

Written/taken by aprilfool🐸

6/25/2026

[sherrylephotography]

We came across part of a flume bridge on the trail. 🚶

Bartley Ranch Regional Park.l, Reno NV

Sherrylephotography

5/30/26

[samirafee]

#PINK ROSES in the ROSE GARDEN

@samirafee

[rhymesalot]

Pondering Perfection

I lay awake throughout the night, ponder do I of what to write. The morning comes and again I rise. The page sits blank before my eyes. ~ My head’s foggy the skies clear, air’s cool and autumn’s near. My love slumbers, her heat I feel. My heart warms to what’s now real. ~ A morning ritual loved so much; I kiss her forehead with a gentle touch. Hours to pass for her to rise, a poem awaits her sleepy eyes. ~ Smiles and kisses we then share. Our need for each other we’re much aware. My mind now settled and troubles cease. Another day’s begun with love, joy and peace.

~*~ SCK091919