Okinawa Photographer- Kurashiki Dam - beautiful day

What A Beautiful Day!

What a beautiful day!

The birds are signing.

The breeze is humming,

The sky is shining!

What a beautiful day!

The trees are green,

The flowers seen,

The critters keen!

What a beautiful day!

My heart is leaping

From love worth keeping!

With joy it's seeping!

What a beautiful day!

My soul is song!

There is no wrong!

And I feel young!

What a BEAUTIFUL DAY!

-David Young

Okinawa Photographer- Kurashiki Dam - beheld

It is the mind which creates the world around us,

and even though we stand side by side in the same meadow,

my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours,

my heart will never stir to the emotions with which yours is touched

-George Gissing

Okinawa Photographer- Kurashiki Dam - listen. touch. look.

And as the season come and go, 

here's something you might like to know...

there are fairies everywhere under bushes, in the air,

playing games just like you play,

singing through their busy day.

So listen, touch, and look around-

 in the air and on the ground.

And if you watch all nature's things,

you just might see a fairy's wing.

- Unknown

Okinawa Photographer- Kurashiki Dam -wonderful day

Blessed Be Children

Blessed be innocence, smiles from the heart,

Simple dimpled fingers that take things apart,

Noses that wrinkle at spinach and such,

Eyes filled with wonder for they see so much.

Blessed be questions with no easy answers,

Bubble-bath swimmers and mud-puddle dancers, 

Climbers and diggers and up-at-dawn-wakers,

Hearts that are gentle, wills that are strong,

Minds learning left from right and right from wrong

Blessed be hugs that wrap around your knees,

Sweet angel voices that sigh "Once more, Please?"

Blessed be, "Read me a story" and then,

Blessed be each whisper, "bless me....Amen."

Blessed be sleepy eyes, each little yawn...

Blessed be childhood before it is gone.

~ Emily Matthews

Okinawa Photographer- Kurashiki Dam - paper boats

Paper Boats

Day by day I float my paper boat one by one down the running stream.

In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live.

I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I a,.

I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and

hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night.

I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the

little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.

I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down the air to race with my boats!

When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my

paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.

The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins

their basket full of dreams.

Rabindranath Tagore