rat tracks or an opossum? (either one brings me wonder)
everything looks beautiful in the afternoon sun
tiny air plants, not in water, not in soil
the gauzy sun behind a thick layer of winter clouds
six does grazing in the early evening snow
two woodpeckers and a blue jay screeching at each other
the sound of a page turning
ceramic creamers
silver glitter
coffee on a cold morning
ice in a glass
handwritten letters in the mail
snow in january and in february
beads and bangles
green on a grey winter day
the space between night and morning
these words: zephyr, qi & jezebel
in the mornings, i look for hoof prints in the soft and snowy ground and when they are there, my heart skips a beat
chocolate with coffee
balsam candles in perpetual burn
new books and old books
(new: The Moth Presents: All These Wonders
old: Daily Rituals by Mason Currey)
fresh calendars ready to use
brown bread with pecans and raisins
this show: Parks and Recreation
visiting with friends on cold winter nights
naps in the afternoon sun
i asked her, “if you were a bird, which bird would you be?”
and she answered so close to my soul:
“a raven.”
“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”
“No way, I’ve waited all this time, I’m getting in…”
“Santa, I know just how you feel.”
“It’s just magical…”
This morning i walked outside and saw two mourning doves in the trees. There was also an uncharacteristically quiet blue jay flying about. It was early, the mist was rising from the snow. The sky was a light grey that contrasted with the tree silhouettes; nearly brutal in its definition.
It is a new day, what shall we make of it?
