
the sun rises and caresses the books on the table and the birdhouse on the shelf,
the light slides through the window slats and paints striped patterns on everything it touches–
re-inventing the night’s shadows

the sun rises and caresses the books on the table and the birdhouse on the shelf,
the light slides through the window slats and paints striped patterns on everything it touches–
re-inventing the night’s shadows

songs from this album: Madman Across the Water by Elton John, 1971
these books: Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler, 2001
and Death in Kashmir by M. M. Kaye, 1984
home made sourdough crackers
beautiful geraniums and wilting petunias
anxiety and
gratitude
and a sense of being lost within the walls of a deep dream

Once she’s locked the attic door behind her she feels a sense of release, a crack of light in the darkness. What is the name for what she’s feeling?
She wishes it were liberation.
from The Age of Light, by Whitney Scharer, 2019

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Dream Variation by Langston Hughes, from The Weary Blues published in 1926

change is never easy
but always inevitable–
often necessary,
life-sustaining,
hopeful,
paramount

the trees flowered and then stopped flowering,
the sun still rises and rains on everything–
another day after all

love is all at once very complicated,
and very simple

on a walk,
I take a camera and shoot pink petals
and tiny buds through an old iron fence,
my mind blank,
and somnambulant


I forget everything, and yet at the same time, I forget nothing

on a morning in May: tiny pellets of snow falling on tender grass and purple violets