Posted in earth friendly, inspirational, journaling, stream of consciousness writing, time

Quiet Times and Grandfather’s Monsoon Song



In times of quiet
the low hum of air conditioning units on tiled roofs and bungalows becomes an invitation  before the morning call of dawn bird.
The spirits are free to come down from the woods out of the Great Mountain. Softly they  might appear on the deep desert floor.
You might just catch a glimpse of a winged one
when time stops.
A bounding shape-shifter leaps into the long evening.
Mesquites guard a shadowy panorama-what was that?
Songs of the ancient ones.


Hush my child, your guardian is ever near

in the glistening mid-day sun and underneath your eyelids at midnight.

Reach out with your fingers, I am here.

My shoulders are strong and you may rest your head between them

as you are still young-no bullies live in our neighborhood

where mixed skin tones and gathering souls honor the four directions, the four colors.

I am telling stories before you dream.

There now, you are safe.

You are a reverie

born to the peaceful ones.




I made it this far and plan to keep going. I believe nature heals the soul. I love to journal, to write, do art, and music. I'm not afraid to tackle tough subjects. Solar-powered & drive hybrid. Trying to do my part. Earned my BA at 53. And, I believe, it's never too late to have a happy childhood.

4 thoughts on “Quiet Times and Grandfather’s Monsoon Song

  1. “You are a reverie born to the peaceful ones” to me is like being a memory before you are even born. Like never was and always is. Trying to grasp the Monsoon Song is like capturing smoke. Just out of reach and utterly lovely.

  2. Hi Viva, there is something so mystical, as cliché as it sounds, about the desert. I am reading Native American and South American memoirs this summer, so am steeped in lore… it all rolled off into the poem. At the same time I am working on memories of my (American-English) grandfather. He protected me from an aggressive kid in the neighborhood.

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