2012 — Would you not know that the whale bones are out of time, and the low notes do not speak, , so I find a warm place to rest – just to rest until the morning comes, and I shall dream in the night that a harpist came and plucked, stretched, released tension, for the harp player must tune all of the time to make the earth sing, to help the year change, and I hear it, the melody finally begins, the song of the angels, the Gloria, and the Magnificat, and my heart is bursting, aching to be home again by a fire, and not inside the whale, but the harpist seems content, just strumming, strumming all of the songs as a Christmas time heads toward the twelfth of nights, so home I ask, and then it happened; Crash! And the whale it came so near to land, but not too close, for the melody upon its bones was proof that it needed the harpist more than me; So at Halfmoon Bay it began to blow as hard as the night wind, and before I knew that all was not to fear, I flew high, higher than the sea, and I was up on dry land once again as my whale, it turned and went back out to sea.  A secret voice told me to let the Thwarps walk on by before I peaked over Highway 1, and as they marched beyond; They said it was over, and the time was done, for they had buried the Old Year, all of the hurts and all of the pain, all of the laughter and contentment too, for a New Year was welcomed in — 2013 — The Revelers said, so I said good by to all that was and might have been, began to walk North toward the home place with a cloak of sea weed afixed to my aching body, and I would make it home by another hour or so, and no one would believe me if I told them about the whale, the harpist still playing on out to sea, and the invasion of the frisky little eyes bursting and watching us run from their stilly chore — To say goodbye to one year and to bring in just one more.

“Happy New Year,s, this 2013,” to all who have come and read my books, my stories, and my songs.  I need you, and I will never forget you, nor this year’s passing along, “The Highway of Kings,” which goes from coast to coast with Divine Apparitions, Peace now the gift to those who make the trek along The Mission Way where one could celebrate A Mass without missing the conquered shores, not to mention that new wine could be opened throughout the years when Lux Regalia was spoted  and given celebration for the old year had relented to let go just one more. 

May your chances be endless, and your journey safe from fear, and may the eearth demand that peace come within each of us within this grand New Year.

Happy 2013! Barbara Everett Heintz, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” Amazon Book and Xanga Blogger — For all who have cared for and loved me over this past cycle of days called, “A Year.”

@nov_way - I have been away for a little while, just long enough to catch my breath, and to see that the emerald green of California is back, that the sunflowers are planted which will fill the central valley in the summer time are coming up again,  and within three weeks or so the mega thousands of almost will burst out in color, magically white with touches of pink from the cherry blossoms.// It is more than any brush could ever paint, the spring time which is full at February’s end, and I wonder how many people know that, for most of the year it is just golden, for  the water goes away, those mighty storms which help to fill the canals, and had people not known  of irrigation brought over from their old countries– All of these images would leave as they are, for the fertile valley which feeds a nation the finest of fruits, nuts, and grains is a vision, a very fragile vision.

The most natural reality of California is that places like Los Angeles, and San Francisco and all of the heavily populated areas is that nature, in the long run, still has the upper hand.  That hand is the enormous reality that we have tamed much of the water, and we have worshiped the sun, and some here even feel haughty, for they point out the storms of the land east of the Rockies do damage every year; so why would we worry about one thing here in this man made Paradisium — This Gloria En Escelsis Deo?

Horror and midnight are playing beneath us, deep within the earth’s crust, and it is a, “Thirsty Lion ready to crash, and people think, “Earthquake,” but they do not understand beyond The San Andreas moving on out to sea just toward the south in San Francisco, but they do not speak of, “The Hwayward,” with almost 350 years of horror, “Thre Rogers Creek,” The entire burning and grinding earth from one end of the west coast to the other, and the restless earth far out in to the Pacific, so we know that northern California, Oregon, and Washington state are left Tsunami warned, waiting, stressed,with their own crushing, grinding earth beneath — Waiting, just waiting, an earth so restless that all which is tammed by man offers this alluring beauty doses of, “Beautiful!”

“Come to these hours of emerald, of blossom, of sunflowers, and love these weeks to crown our California as the grand dame, and the most regal bearer of seasonal gifts — The weeks when we can gloat and know that only this place has this, nature’s art gallery dug from the sand,soil,and the sea is miraculous, but a murderous and sociopathic darkness is striking, slipping,thrusting, and crushing waiting for the moment to claim back its gifts like a bomb.

Thank you for reading and kindly responding to my writings.  I appreciate it so very much.

“Pinkhoneysuckle,” Barbara Everett Heintz – Author of the book on Amazon, and the Xanga blog of the same name..