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JAMES PATTERSON VIDEO LESSON 22 Closing MASTERCLASS.COM

Video lesson 22: Closing

 

This is James Patterson’s last video lesson- lesson 22.  I will give you a smidgeon of his closing talk. This video is only a mere three minutes and seventeen seconds. It is well worth the pep talk. I listened to it at least three times, so far.

Lesson 22 -Closing

I love this part:

“People get into –this is the way it’s been, here’s the rules of writing,- here’s the rules of literature, here’s the rules – who said? Really! God does not come down and lay down the twenty-commandments of writing a story- and just because it‘s been done in a certain way forever –does not necessarily mean it’s right.

“And- also means- don’t walk away from what’s been done. But, also you don’t have to follow blindly. Things change we do new shit.” ~ James Patterson Lesson 22

My take on this has to do with my journey.  My search for the correct way to say something, the correct way to express an emotion or the theme or just to get into the head of my characters using a slightly different twist.

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Now, that is all fine and good, to get a point across or teach something in a new way. I may need to see it from different perspectives. Some of those perspectives have had me crossing my eyes and confused me for weeks, even years. Until I read it from a different point of view, eventually I can see their point.

“I am peculiar, obviously. And that peculiarity has had its rewards. So I share things with you and you have to pick what’s going to be relevant to you.”~ James Patterson 

If I take  ‘just one thing’ from James Patterson’s Masterclass (James Patterson Teaches Writing @masterclass.com) it would be this:  ‘just write’- (lesson 7: “get that outline out!”) And yes! Others have used that very phrase.  Except, they weren’t James Patterson.

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James Patterson’s  video lessons were made to inspire you to write. So get inspired and write a best seller, or just something for your family or just for you. You can’t please everyone, so might as well please yourself. Oh, does that last sentence sound like a double entendre?

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Mr. Patterson’s Masterclass.com gives you an added benefit of postings, comments, contests, and even a FaceBook page to help you keep up with the goings on with all the Patterson fans.

This Masterclass.com doesn’t end here. I have been going back to the lessons; listening again and again to the videos, grabbing a bit of James Patterson’s advice that I can.

I will use his lessons to smash through writer’s block.

{{HEAVY SIGH}}

I may need to keep Patterson’s Masterclass.com videos playing on a loop.

“Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.” ~Emile Coué

My cat is trying to use hypnosis to get me to write daily.

FaceBook:  https://www.facebook.com/JamesPatterson/

Twitter:  www.twitter.com/JP_Books

Or here on BookShots

Insecure Writer’s Support Group – December’s Blog Post

https://www.pexels.com
https://www.pexels.com

I just stumbled onto the IWSG -Insecure Writer’s Support Group- the Blog hop. The point is to write a blog post that will point back at the IWSG and all the other writers who post the first Wednesday of each month for the next year.

I just saw this so I am squeaking in under the wire; for me, it is nearly 10pm.

“December 7 Question: In terms of your writing career, where do you see yourself five years from now, and what’s your plan to get there?” IWSG

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I participated in NaNoWriMo, joined writers groups, entered contests, wrote for myself and decided to write a novel. That novel was slipped back on the shelf and labeled ‘next year’ after a couple of accidents, family issues and health problems. I even stopped adding to my  blog a few years back.

Now…today, this moment I am back to writing for myself. That novel I want and ‘need’ to finish, that book of poetry (with its muffled screams) needs to be compiled, while I develop organization skills (can you hear the laughter) finish classes and read the books I have piled around me hoping that their words, all those hours their writer’s sweated, bemoaned and worried over, will rub off on me.

In five years I want to have written a novel a year. Posted on my blog every week. Gain so many twitter followers that one of my tweets will go to millions. (Wait I should read the rule on this post again- dreams and desires…nope!   Insight, yes, I can see this under insight-lets keep with that.)

Today, I  will start with this first step;  release self-doubt and write daily.

IWSG

You are loved No one loves you more than your Dad

In the summer of 2014, I wrote a Father’s Day article and posted it on Examiner.com. That website closed down the summer of 2016. That article was about man, a father who I was lucky to have known for a very short time.

Creative Commons Zero (CC0) license from pexels.com
Creative Commons Zero (CC0) license from pexels.com

I am resurrecting that article.

For each person ‘Father’s Day’ can hold a different meaning, a different feeling all dependent on your relationship with your father.  When you were a kid, it was the day you made a card, or played a game of catch while the grill sizzled or maybe you followed your Dad around while others left him alone for the day.

Quite possibly your relationship with your father was less than wonderful and he never paid any attention to you. He may have been violent or withdrawn, an alcoholic or a workaholic.

Or, he may have died before you got to know him.

Maybe you never met him.

If he is no longer alive and you wonder, what would he say to you- if he saw how you are progressing in this life?  Would he approve of you singing on street corners, working in a cubicle or jumping out of planes? Maybe you spend your days painting the tops of water towers.  Remember, your Dad was young once and the music moved his soul, just as it dances within yours.

In the spring of 2014, I overheard a conversation between a father and his daughter in the common living room of a nursing home. Their voices were loud, words sharp with pained edges, their interaction lasted only a few minutes. The daughter, it seemed, had decided to confront her father with an apology. By the sound of those raised voices he didn’t want any part of. He paced, agitated, in that living room, surrounded by multiple lazy boy chairs, a fish tank as a wide screen TV that whispered in the background.

Voices rose and fell. The daughter stepped forward and reached out, in hushed tones, she asked for forgiveness to a wrong, a wrong only they were privy to.

Her father stopped and stared past her through the picture window and out onto the road beyond. For a few seconds the passing cars caught and held his attention.

Another man was with them acting as a go-between. He touched the older man’s shoulders and asked him to hear her out, then he turned and asked the daughter if she understood that her words might not give her the peace she seemed to want.

The dad turned away from his daughter. He flattened down his hair, rubbed his beard, turned to face her. With a shaky voice he announced loudly, “ I accept your apology, as it means so much to you… that I do.” Then he asked stiffly, “are we done here?”

She reached out to him, his little girl in a grown woman’s body and asked for a hug.

He took a step back and refused with a curt shake of his head. “That I can’t give you!”

The mediator sighed heavily and asked the Dad, “If he would, at least, shake her hand?” The old man looked up; he clasped his hands together and rocked slightly, then with great internal trepidation, agreed.

His daughter clasped his hand with tears in her eyes. He returned her stare with anger flashing from his eyes. His hand shook as he stood in front of her, then abruptly he announced it was time for her to go.

They left quickly. I grabbed at the lull to instantly head to the restroom. When I came out, he was there waiting for me.

He asked how I was feeling. I smiled sadly, and he touched my hand, leaned in close and placed his forehead against mine. Tears welled up in his eyes; “Remember” he said, “That you are loved. You were made with love. Brought into this world with love, and have been loved more than words can say. Do you understand?” He asked.

I nodded, tired and depressed. The last few days had been spent holding my mother’s hand while she slipped away.  At this point, his words had me on the verge of tears.

Softly he said, “Just know that you are loved, and I do forgive you.” He held my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Now, I will accept that hug from you.”

He pulled me close and gave me a hug only a father can give. It was full of love. It felt like my Dad was there, watching and talking through this man. I saw my father’s eyes in his.

This Dad, whose life was nearing the end, had told me that he never knew his own biological father. His Dad was his step-dad, whom he loved and emulated his entire life.

“Remember,” he whispered in my ear. “I love you.”

He loosened his hug and moved back a step. He looked into my eyes -seeing different eyes- he smiled. His eyes were far away. His hands shook. He felt weak and yet, very strong. “My child.” He whispered. “I loved you before you were born.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

I looked towards the door where I could see his daughter’s car pulling out of the parking lot.

He hugged me again and whispered in my ear. “Just know that you are loved. I do forgive you and you can always have a hug. You are loved! Remember, that you have always been loved! And you were wanted! You are a good person. You try your best, and I am so proud of you!”

He pulled back, held my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. “I am so proud! You are loved. You are wonderful. All you do is noticed! I see you! I see you!” He let out a long shaky breath. “I do forgive you,… and you can always have a hug! Remember, no one loves you more than your Dad!”

#why women don’t report the reality of sexual harassment

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Photo from pexels.com

 

This tweeted hashtag has been making the rounds on Twitter.

‪#WhyWomenDontReport‪

It is an angry sound that should be taken seriously. Men and woman are tired of the fear, humiliation, and loss of self, physical and mental trauma that occurs from sexual harassment.

The reality of sexual harassment is that nearly every woman has been subjected to some sort of harassment at work.

Sexual harassment is a form of sex discrimination that violates Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964

What is sexually harassment? It is:

  • Behaviors like unwelcome sexual advances
  • Requests for sexual favors
  • Direct or indirect threats or bribes for sexual activity
  • Sexual innuendos and comments
  • Sexually suggestive jokes
  • Unwelcome touching or brushing against a person
  • Pervasive displays of materials with sexually illicit or graphic content
  • An attempted or completed sexual assault

A reaction to being sexual harassed will be to laugh it off, pretend it wasn’t happening, ignore it and then laugh it off again and again, hoping it will stop, but it won’t. It is an act of violence, of dominance over another person, it will never go away. The fear level increases. The harassment increases and no one is listening when you ask them to stop. Then, you are too afraid to say anything. Petrified to be at work.  When you finally report the harassment.. you were surprised to find out, they aren’t listening to you,  all because your job is lower  on the ladder than the one doing the harassing….So nothing will change..

Employers hire people to protect their company from its employees. You know… that department its called HR. Your company probably had sexual harassment meetings, telling everyone what not to do. Most people will become nervous and laugh in these meetings. They make jokes about it. It’s not funny, stop laughing.

I in 3 women are sexually harassed at work. ~The Huffington post

Why is it so hard to get someone to believe?

Because people don’t know who to believe, people lie. They lie to say it happened, they lie to say it didn’t, they lie for the attention, they lie to protect the company, and they lie to protect themselves. They lie for money, power, control.

from Twitter
Twitter hashtag

So when the truth is told. It takes a lot of courage to keep talking. To keep pointing out what happened. You need to fight to get someone to believe you. You need to stand up to bullies. Those bullies are your employers your co-workers, even your family who will tell you not to make waves.

“…lifetime risk of having a PTSD diagnosis was significantly higher among sexual harassment victims than among non- victims.”~ The National Center for PTSD

Someone on Twitter asked, why do woman remain silent?
When you stand up and say no, someone will be there to pull the rug out and in the end, you will lose your job. This is why a woman makes a choice to remain silent… to keep their jobs, their careers. And this happens over and over. Lawyers will push the victims so they don’t stand up in court. Fear takes over and the victim will back down or never come forward.

So when someone lies, it harms the real victims. And there are a lot of them.

I had to ask myself the question that had been flittering around the net…. Do I believe in what is being said about Trump?  No.. I need proof.

Do I believe when he says he loves’ beautiful’ woman? Yes, He has said that many times. But anything else, …I need more proof. it seem’s too easy to pull all this out now, just before an election.

How about Hillary Clinton…?  Yes. there is proof of her transgressions. and her husbands…Lots of it.

So are you still wondering….. #WhyWomenDontReport‪

Why don’t you ask Monica Lewinsky.

Lesson 19 MARKETING THE PATTERSON WAY James Patterson’s Masterclass.com

James Patterson Masterclass.Com Lesson 19

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“Bizarrely, there is a Harvard case study on me. And, I think one of the things that the professors found interesting ‘IS’ that they can write about me. The way they write about Coca-Cola as a brand. I don’t partially think of myself as a brand but they at least found that angle interesting” ~ James Patterson

This lesson is on marketing and selling your book, your words with words. I am hearing ‘hook’ here. Not the first page, that first sentence ‘Hook’. But the hook that is on the back cover or on the inside flap. Something that entices your buyer, to buy your novel. The tagline.

This is from an article on GalleyCat,  “Now they teach author branding in schools” the Harvard case study on James Patterson as a brand.

“I’d never actually heard a product speak,” he recalls. “It was like listening to a can of Coca-Cola explain how it would like to be marketed.” That initial encounter inspired Deighton to write “Marketing James Patterson,” a case that uses the lens of a take-charge author, the publishing industry, and the business of book clubs to analyze the success of various modes of marketing.

“I see his success as a sublime integration of operations and marketing,” says Deighton, who taught the case to MBAs for the first time last fall in the elective course Consumer Marketing. “Patterson understands that if you want shelf space you need to publish a lot of books; that you need a production system with more than one author; and that you need to mind the brand.” ~ Harvard Business School Professor John Deighton

Brand Yourself

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“A brand is a relationship between a product, or in this case ‘me,’ and the customers- just a relationship. “~ James Patterson

Hmmm, what? When you brand yourself. Not with a hot iron, but as a writer of a certain genre. You want to make a statement, meet expectations with your tag lines.

The Kardashians have branded themselves. So has Oprah. In my opinion, anyone who uses their own name uses it as their brand.

James Patterson’s tells us his reader’s ‘expectations’ are that when you pick up one of his books, the pages will almost turn themselves.

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His novels are written as if he were telling a story, not a lot of colorful descriptions just movement of the character from start to the finish. So, let us imagine, if a reader of Mr. Patterson’s picked up one of his books and found instead, something that sounded like Faulkner, well, they would be disappointed. Similar if that reader wanted to read Faulkner and found a James Patterson novel. That tagline will give us an expectation of what we can expect inside the novel.

Taglines are to get the readers/buyers attention. They pull you into the story before you even crack open the binder or click on your e-reader.

Make your reader interested, then anxious to start reading, Delighted to have bought your novel. Taglines are the prelude to reading. A promise of things to come, possibly along with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, a comfy robe, a reading light, and that feeling that you were welcomed into the novel as you read those first sentences. This is where you fall into the story as you listen to James Patterson talking.

When you brand yourself. You can put that brand on the radio, in print, or on television promoting you and your book

“In terms of print, it’s the same thing. Here’s this space, in the newspaper, or this space or whatever the space is. That, I’m going to notice it and I am going to be motivated by it. It’s kind of that simple. There is an awful lot of stuff that shows up in the newspaper as your flipping gotta be where you notice it…what’s going to get my attention or sort of put it on my wavelength where I’m going, that sounds kind of cool I like mystery or whatever and this sounds like a really good one.”~ James Patterson

Use social Media

To get your readers to buy your novel you need to grab their attention. And you do that with your tag line. That tagline needs to be compelling.

Here are some James Patterson’s taglines you can find the books they belong to on his website HERE.

  1. Cross Kill: Along Came a Spider killer Gary Soneji has been dead for over ten years. Alex Cross watched him die. But today, Cross saw him gun down his partner. Is Soneji alive?
  1. Alex Cross, Run: Detective Alex Cross arrests renowned plastic surgeon Elijah Creem for sleeping with teenage girls. Now, his life ruined, Creem is out of jail, and he’s made sure that no one will recognize him—by giving himself a new face.
  1. Cat & Mouse: A killer named Mr. Smith begins his murder spree in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and then starts terrorizing Europe. Bodies are found “gutted.” At the same time Gary Soneji taunts Cross with murders in train stations.
  1. Kiss the Girls: Alex Cross matches wits with Casanova and The Gentlemen Caller. This time it is personal. Naomi Cross, twenty-two-year-old daughter of Cross’s deceased brother Aaron, is reported missing. She is a law student at Duke University. Cross goes to North Carolina, fearing the worst.

Most important about marketing, is the passion, that excitement gets communicated to the buyer. With one or two sentences, those taglines will get a bookstore to stock your book, and reviewers to blog about it, which will get the buyer to pick it up and buy it.

How to make a tagline? Start with a feeling. If you are writing a horror novel, you will want your reader to be frightened. What image do you want to convey. Comedy, make them laugh. Romance, well they want to feel the love. I hope your getting the idea.

Great advertising taglines:

  • JUST DO IT – Nike
  • Help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up…
  • Got Milk California Milk Processor Board,

Taglines should describe the genera of the story you are writing. The purpose of your book. The theme. A tagline should make us feel. A tagline should help readers find your book using keywords

  • In 1979, we discovered in space no one can hear you scream. In 1992, we will discover, on Earth, EVERYONE can hear you scream. ~Alien3
  • Don’t go in the water.~ Jaws

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This video lesson also has an assignment, a PDF Masterclass workbook, and a comments section.

For fun, I found a link for a tagline generator:

 

Prince Thank You for the music

Prince was a part of my life, even though I was never able to attend his concerts or meet the man, the singer, the dancer, and the artist. My moments are interweaved with his music and are still part of my life. I would play his songs when I hung out with my friends, friends who, sadly, died young. Just listening and dancing to Prince’s songs brings them back.

I listened to Prince on date nights, sung and danced to with my sister to ‘Little Red Corvette’ and rocked with my kids.

Prince’s songs are part the human condition. Dare you to close your eyes, and see if you can’t help but rock out with, ‘U got the look’ or D.M.S.R.

He was there for major and minor life changes. When my day was disheartening listening to, ‘When Doves Cry ‘made me feel. When New Years Eve came around and I was at work, I cranked up a radio and played, ‘1999.’ Just crying in the dark, or dancing away depression, anger, or a breakup, didn’t matter when I cranked up ‘PartyMan.’

Prince’s life intersected with my life, with my kids, every time I turned on the radio, MTV, or remember driving in a car with the rusted out floors, eating ketchup on bread, Princes songs, his voice, his essence was right there with me.

And lets not forget, the man was damn sexy. {{HOT}}

Where have I been?

Where have I been?

This past October I was sitting at a red light, near my doctor’s office, which I had just left. When our car was rear-ended. I was told by the police officer my car was drivable. It wasn’t. Oh, I made it home all right. Then it fell apart like a cartoon character. It was declared totalled by my insurance company, the frame looked like and accordion. I was told we were lucky.

Lots of pain, lots more physical troubles. Our savings for taxes went into the buying a used, 100,000-mile new car, new to us car.

***

I tend to growl a lot like my  American shorthair cat, Sanosuki.  We call him Sano or Suki,  he grumbles and hides in the closet. If he would let me I would be in there with him.

***

I hope that all of you are well, happy- alive and breathing. Please put down your cell phones when you drive. Turn the insane things off. Notice the cars around you. Watch the trees, animals, people and all the fun things you will miss by being electronically connected. Check out the odd things people do in their cars when they think no one is watching.

***

This wasn't from today.  I missed the picture. So you see how the deck is swept off to feed the birds. Sano is to the bottom left.
This wasn’t from today. I missed the picture. So you see how the deck is swept off to feed the birds. Sano is to the bottom left.

This morning I decided to feed the birds off the deck, right outside the kitchen doors. There was one major problem. The ice, rain, sleet, snow that fell on December 30…froze solid. I couldn’t open the door.

No, problem, right. I pulled on my boots, heavy coat, hat, gloves and muffler and walked outside like some two-year-old, stuck under a mountain of clothes. I was  barely able to move my arms. I had the bread and birdseed wrapped in a piece of paper towel and carefully place in my side pocket. I grabbed my old ski poles and walked into the cold.

The blast of air that hit me had me ready to go back inside. (16 degrees Fahrenheit/ -8 degrees Celsius)

The sun was out and the air was clear and fresh. The snow was white, shining crystals of blue-grey and white. The taller grasses and wild foliage poked up a dried, frozen brown -beige, out of the layer of ice and snow. As I walked I didn’t crunch through the ice, I walked on top.

The deck was covered with three inches of ice and snow. I noticed something odd, the snow didn’t lie flat on the deck it was rounded. When I stepped on it I didn’t have a strong foothold. I had to slowly move up the deck holding tightly to the rail. This time, I was a child learning to walk hand over hand, unsteady worried about gravity.  I never made it up to the kitchen door. I couldn’t move the frozen snow/ice off the steps. It was as if the snow, ice and wooden deck  ‘were one’ and that was a force I didn’t want to slide on.

I removed the birdseed and shredded bread from my pocket.  Reached through the slats placing it carefully on the rounded- sloped mound of ice.

From inside the house, my cats were waiting impatiently for the birds. They didn’t have to wait long. Sanosuki chirped, mewed, purred as he ran up and down the cat tower, excited and hopeful that one bird would come inside. He sat and watched as the bread and seed disappear.

My blog post for DFW business writing course contest. ~Or, Hey teacher, look at me! Look at me!

Writing on bits

The founder and owner of, Men with Pens, James Chartrand, (her pen name) has a business writing course, Damn Fine Words, which is starting on September 3rd

She is also running a contest; it ends as the business-writing course begins on September 3rd.

Information on the contest:

  • Blog post article of at least 450 words on why writing is important to you and how better writing skills would change your business”
  • Two people will win a scholarship to the September edition of the Damn Fine Words writing course. (Retail value $1,599 each.)”

Writing is important to me because … I ‘need’ to use the written word to make money.  Luckily, for me the very act of writing makes me happy, because it is not generating any income.

At this point, I feel like I am writing something for school. You know, that dreaded paper that every teacher asks you to write.  ‘How I spent my summer vacation…’

I have no idea where I am going with this, so I might as well ramble on.

Last year, my fifteen year old complained about how much homework she was getting in her English literature class. When I had her show me the offending material, I was amazed and jealous of all the tutoring she was getting, everything from how to write a plot and characterization, to the ability to read and discuss literature at a college level.

We talked about how well she understood the class and her only complaint was that some of her classmates were trying to get out of doing their own homework. They would use sibling’s old papers or even get their parents to do their homework.

“Wouldn’t it be great,” I said.  “If the schools made parents take one class with their kids?”

Her answer was a silent glare. Teenagers can speak volumes without moving their mouths, and say absolutely nothing after talking for an hour.

“I would sign up in a heartbeat to take this class.” I said that aloud.  She said nothing.

I took my high school years for granted. The classes were just something I had to get through on the way to life, not realizing that life was right in front of me, never behind never ahead, just now.

I never know when to shut up so I added.  “My classes never had the content that yours have.”

Having an adult tell you that ‘your’ schoolwork is harder than theirs ever was, well, all the rolling eyes and heavy sighing let me know she was not taking it as a compliment.

Writing, for me, was something I wanted to do after I opened that first page of my mother’s encyclopedias, neatly placed, on a small bookcase in the living room.   I remember asking who made the books.

The answer I got was, “A writer.”

I often wonder if I were told, salesman or bookbinder or even garbage man, would I have felt that tugging at my soul.   Maybe it was God who whispered ‘Writer’ in my ear.

Let me try again.

  • Why writing is important to me… because I can’t see my life without that spark of creativity, pushing my hands to write.

Second question:

  • How will better writing skills change my business?   This one is easy. It will give me focus on the direction of my writing.

In order to take my writing to the next level, which would be marketing and ‘what-ever’ I am missing. I just know that I need to learn a completely new way of looking at my writing, and my life. Doing anything well is a progress, steps need to be taken, no jumping ahead I may miss something important. Learning the right steps helps keep me on the right track.

Earlier this year

  • I grabbed my domain name.
  • I have a couple of logos drawn out.
  •  I have ideas and a love of nature.
  •  I just need something or someone to help me pull it all together.

*I posted another article on this contest here…WikiHook  come by and read.  🙂

Anyone interested in trying out for a free class. Paste your link on the Men With Pens site. Do it soon! The contest ends on September 3rd.

Good Luck to all

Rainbow’s Edge a poem for today…

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Rainbow’s Edge

by Gerardine Baugh

 

Rain,

moments before had pounded the roof and quenched the needs of my garden.

As the rains    slowed     the setting sun   slipped    around    the fast moving clouds.

Clouds

bluish-black tinged with yellow edges of gold,

bright,

quiet pillars of God’s rays mirrored inside those clouds painting a rainbow and exposing an invisible edge.

An edge of a planet that stays out of sight,

except when the earth drinks from the sky,

soaking up color,

then spiraling back to the Earth.

Giving rise to songs as it appears,

shimmering,

within a semicircle of color and hope.

                       Then quietly disappears.