Colliding thoughts
Allow the dreams to come
Only to drift away before I can see

Monday. Monday. It starts with a slow little bang, as #monochromemonday thoughts run through my head. Keeping it together, while looking ahead. There are days where I'd rather be bedded, next to my book, with dog-eared pages, a bit tore but no matter. Retrieved from a bin. Free. It doesn't get any better than that. Almost instant gratification for me. Give me tomorrow and we'll look at it again.

Do you look up when you take a walk
Leaving the sidewalk for a peek at the trees
Craning your head, chin in the air
Do you look up when you begin to talk
Remembering to ponder what you will see
As you take this walk, this walk with me
Do you look up when you take a walk?

Oh, yes… it started as a mind game between us, but it was quite disconcerting to see how many of those tiny seeds were negative thoughts fated to grow into something that would bite me back… Have you ever noticed that they seem to grow faster and if you let them, they suck the life out of your positivity? How does your garden grow?

So, this is very eclectic, it's true, brought by me to you. Let's just say a random monochrome...This shot was from the last Indian PowWow that I attended in rural Delaware. There are five Indian Nations in which all the tribes fall — the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek (Muscogee), and Seminole. The Indian Nations have a wide variety of art forms, lifestyles, regalia ( and beliefs. This is what I call Indian Pride. I love this guy and he loved his tribe.

And just because it's Monday, it's true, I have to wonder where the whole weekend went. I leave you in music, the best farewell, I want to hear you sing, open your mouth, and let it go... Just a short goodbye today, along with my Monday song. Just like that, this post is over. Come back tomorrow and we'll do it again!

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost