Sun on the porch!
I never complained of rain.
Bees flyby my red chair.
Her damp brow, from
hard work and well-
a starling sings, and
she lifts her hands
in prayer-full stance–
the wind is shifting
and she remembers
early summer blues
a man-boy’s voice, inviting
don’t forget about the love
don’t leave it behind
don’t leave summer behind
She smelled evergreen
through July’s singe of grass
the first raspberries tart
red lips musing
a wipe on the back of her arm
and in the leaves–
traces of longing
What do you suppose
the clouds talk about–
congregating in cirrocumulus bevy
when they see all of it–
the neck bite.
the slammed door.
one red apple.
By August’s fireflies
he–on the road
on social media–
bursts from her pen
epics he will not read
her late night daydreams
Just in time
will answer the phone
wondering why he waited
until he finished the bottle
each word counted
Starting his wander back
through snowy by-ways
he searches for their key
in a pocket with a hole in it
it will take nearly ’til May
to speak of her again. Until
the breeze catches her scent
and he returns, to
find her once more–
his brown-haired fay
he swore was made of vapour
from the clouds
of early June
Anger in the air
We talked of happier days
Leaves started falling.
Happy Thanksgiving to the states, happy end of autumn to everyone else. I wonder if this wasn’t the most beautiful autumn ever here in the Great Lakes, or maybe I was just paying more attention.
I look around at the multi-coloured trees in wonder. How come this happens every year, yet it is is always a marvel, always a pause in the day? When I first look up and see a tree has started to change, I feel a seed of excitement. It grows as the weeks go by, with each stroll or drive, watching the fields turn golden. Pure gold, the sight of it. I have lived in places with four seasons for 54 autumns. Still, it is always new. You have created this world beautiful, to change and grow in harmony. Autumn is the bridge to winter, yet I feel so alive. When the sun starts to go down and sets the top of the church on fire, I don’t know where to look. I turn slowly in my landscape to take it all in, ever changing with each moment, until the light has gone.
stowaway on my shoe
red leaves fell
Title from the Christian hymn, This Is My Father’s World
words by Maltbie D. Babcock, 1901
music, traditional tune arrange by Franklin L. Sheppard, 1915
View of the church of Saint Paul de Mausole, Vincent van Gogh
- I went to mail a letter in my building without looking in the mirror first.
- Day by day, I am getting back to my normal self
- Whatever normal is
- Perhaps normal is what I feel like inside, without anyone else’s expectations
- I would also try to erase some regrets, though they cannot really be forgotten, and add to our experiences, what makes us wiser
- sadder and wiser
- Today’s weather here is a good illustration of how I view my life right now
Continue reading “Monday Random”
the day rose gray
gray people calling
dead leaves falling
until this one thing
this savory embrace
- I baked a chicken dish this week that was delicious.
- Sadly I do not think I can repeat it, as I cooked as if I were painting or writing words, and wrote nothing down
- Our local grocery had chicken quarters for 39 cents a pound, so I couldn’t resist, especially since that is my favourite part of the bird, especially the thighs
- Hubby is a breast man
- Basically it was salt, black pepper, chili powder, granulated garlic, onion powder, thyme, rosemary, basil, and turmeric. I basted it every half hour at 375F with bottled balsamic salad dressing.
- It got all brown and sticky and moist, very rich. Great over rice.
- NaNoWriMo is here once more
- For the uninitiated, the idea is to write a 50k word novel in 30 days
- From the past ventures, I have 1 rough draft and two unfinished novels
- I can’t seem to finish
- Is this laziness, or was I built more for sprints than long distance running?
- Not giving up
- Besides I need a break from sewing these little felt things I’ve been poking at for months now.
- I really thought the craft show would go better, but it takes time to get how it all works and how to market oneself, even at a 6×3 foot table
- Even after sending gifts I still have a good hundred at least of these little felt Christmas ornaments and key chains. The majority are keychains.
- If you hit me up in e-mail or my contact page, and paypal me 25 bucks, I’ll send you a dozen assorted little bears and hearts and things, (US only) and for another five bucks, I’ll throw in an original poem signed by me
- I really do have to recoup some of my material costs
- Then I will start again
- On the positive side, my sewing skills are getting better, and I have many new projects for the coming year
- I am getting a bit of arthritis, and I never will forget my mother telling me the secret is to keep your fingers busy
- If you get idle, they will get gnarled up and not work anymore for you
- If they are kept industrious, they still might get gnarly in time, but they won’t stop working, and that’s what I want.
- After all, I could live to be a hundred
- So it is monday again, and at my house that means gray and rain and talk of snow at the end of the week
- Illinois folks learn to be resilient so we are geared up with our mittens and our ice scrapers and drive on without a thought about snow before Thanksgiving.
- Not a thought
Enjoy your Monday! It is the only one that will ever be just like today.
Here’s some kind of chill groove I have been listening to while writing this morning
I tried to paint the moment–
gray breezes, and the lake.
I could smell our old farm
and all the memories tumbled
into some new life
like how the yeast is
so all of this is not death
what we sang and tasted and wrote
leaf showers and dry wells
- It was very pretty today. We were both home and decided to get out and hang with nature
Continue reading “Monday Random: warm days, cold nights”
- How do you act under stress?
- Do you take it out on others or do you internalize the struggle?
- Do you simply get to work and work doubly hard to complete the task well?
- Do you crumble and cry in a corner?
- The time for the craft show has come. It should be that craft show, or this craft show, but it is simply dubbed ‘Thee craft show’, which I think is a mistake now, considering expectations and hopes riding on one day
- Everyone knows you rarely break even on the first show
- If it rains, all bets are off
- We keep coming back to the calm place and saying, it’s okay if we don’t make money the first time (lies, all lies)
Continue reading “Monday Random: crunch time”