Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.

Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.

dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.

Dressed for her wedding, she hurried to her beloved’s side. Her finest silk was chosen and she became His bride.

Clouds sail a vast blue ocean, shapes shifting in that expansive Big Sky.

got my surfboard out and rode the photon waves: googled out!

end of long trip around the solar system– finished the book

here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...

Pick up those cups. Embrace those days full of flavors. Savor every single drop. Drink up.

sky shapeshifters take infinite forms on the azure canvas.

gentle breeze on the beach– sudden rain