The tiny peanuts
contained in a
small gift bowl
needed a warming
after twenty five
hours in the air,
smashing about
in my suitcase
through the x-rays
and various scrutiny,
but they seemed to
be vital and tasty
after a turn in the
oven, rolling around
on my tongue,
a sandy tasting nut
from Africa,
unusual in size
and shape,
would it make
miniature peanut
butter for little
sandwiches,
oh, now you’re being
silly, but yes
the Mindful Life
has been a suggested
title for the new
way of believing,
following each
thought through
to the finish,
slowing down long
enough to breathe
and smile,
contained in a
small gift bowl
needed a warming
after twenty five
hours in the air,
smashing about
in my suitcase
through the x-rays
and various scrutiny,
but they seemed to
be vital and tasty
after a turn in the
oven, rolling around
on my tongue,
a sandy tasting nut
from Africa,
unusual in size
and shape,
would it make
miniature peanut
butter for little
sandwiches,
oh, now you’re being
silly, but yes
the Mindful Life
has been a suggested
title for the new
way of believing,
following each
thought through
to the finish,
slowing down long
enough to breathe
and smile,
and laugh out loud
while listening
to my own words
recorded in digital
fantasia and
accompanied by
the rock god of
all time,
how foolish I
would be to dream
of such a life
and yet I have
rearranged my
fastidious loggia
into a studio
for painting like
a madwoman,
it’s as if there
is not enough time
in the day to
express myself,
and I wander back
to the land of
giraffes and elephants
to find a center,
for they know
no boundaries,
these creatures of
the wild,
and that’s where
I’m headed,
a newly
minted
mindful
child.
while listening
to my own words
recorded in digital
fantasia and
accompanied by
the rock god of
all time,
how foolish I
would be to dream
of such a life
and yet I have
rearranged my
fastidious loggia
into a studio
for painting like
a madwoman,
it’s as if there
is not enough time
in the day to
express myself,
and I wander back
to the land of
giraffes and elephants
to find a center,
for they know
no boundaries,
these creatures of
the wild,
and that’s where
I’m headed,
a newly
minted
mindful
child.
©J.W.WINSLOW 3/1/10
A sunset trails
between the
trees as we
load up
to ride into
the bush,
the place
called MOKOLODI
which houses
many local
stars of fashion,
some with tusks
and ivory,
some with stripes
and hoofs,
some with tall
necks and big eyes,
some with funny
names like
warthog,
and then there
are the cheetah
who fly past
us, and the
monkeys that
play with our
heads as they
swing from
the trees,
our guide commands
attention by
shouting loudly
to stay in the
bus, but not us,
we squirm and
pitch back and
forth, cameras
clicking, eyes wide,
no place to hide
not that you would
want to,
between the
trees as we
load up
to ride into
the bush,
the place
called MOKOLODI
which houses
many local
stars of fashion,
some with tusks
and ivory,
some with stripes
and hoofs,
some with tall
necks and big eyes,
some with funny
names like
warthog,
and then there
are the cheetah
who fly past
us, and the
monkeys that
play with our
heads as they
swing from
the trees,
our guide commands
attention by
shouting loudly
to stay in the
bus, but not us,
we squirm and
pitch back and
forth, cameras
clicking, eyes wide,
no place to hide
not that you would
want to,
it’s just too cool
for words, this camp
we return to,
lit with candles
and a feast for the
eyes and empty
bellies, drink for
the thirsty
laughter for
the hungry souls,
wedding plans
and silly jokes
while native
costumes are
presented to the
white guests,
perhaps we will
not be so very
obvious now,
doubtful,
but they don’t care
they love us anyway,
and what can you
say, but love you back
while the crocodiles
slither past in the
waters of Africa,
kings in the country
of the wild animals,
we watch in awe
singing as we depart,
disappearing into
the night.
for words, this camp
we return to,
lit with candles
and a feast for the
eyes and empty
bellies, drink for
the thirsty
laughter for
the hungry souls,
wedding plans
and silly jokes
while native
costumes are
presented to the
white guests,
perhaps we will
not be so very
obvious now,
doubtful,
but they don’t care
they love us anyway,
and what can you
say, but love you back
while the crocodiles
slither past in the
waters of Africa,
kings in the country
of the wild animals,
we watch in awe
singing as we depart,
disappearing into
the night.
©J.W.WINSLOW 2/1/10