right now: is it that everything matters, or is it that nothing matters?
in the blue light of dawn, the snow fell silently on branches,
the crows called to one another
and to me–
after watching them from the window with warm coffee in my hands and hopefulness in my heart,
the pup and i joined their play, like restless children after a long sickness, the cold and the drifting snow saturating us with reckless abandon
fly away my friend
sometimes it’s not so much what is lost,
as what can be found
i asked her, “if you were a bird, which bird would you be?”
and she answered so close to my soul:
a vulture came to visit my chimney–
she spread her wings and ruffled her feathers,
and we stared at her in complete reverence
she listens to the crow’s call,
and it’s like coming home
what feels familiar, worn, trusted was once new and strange
Instead of the river, there are now trees. Instead of big, tall windows that let in 14 hours of summer sun, there are smaller, shaded windows and a cooler, darker, sweeter space, sprinkled with dapled spots of bright light. How does “place” define us? Interesting question. I look for deer now, not the heron, I look for the skunk at night. I collect blue jay feathers and listen for the cries of the hawks. I pull the pup from the poison ivy and she looks at me as if to say, “when are we going home?” and I say, “little girl, we are home”.
Dropping out for a little break. Be well and safe.