this book: The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady by Edith Holden
jameson in a small glass
spring flowers on the counter
snow storms in the afternoon
this song: Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (R&B version sung by Gladys Knight & the Pips)
mallards at the marsh
coffee with friends
the beauty of a grey day
is the hard, unforgiving, black edge
beauty is haunting
a photograph trips a memory
deep swells of longing overwhelm me
a cigarette is lit
coffee is sipped
the sun warms the backs of red-winged black birds as they fly across the water–
i hear the screech of a blue jay
and watch the sparrows flee the bench
the pup growls at a point in the distance
and i shield my tired eyes to get a better look
i closed my eyes and saw you clearly on that late summer day, walking through the field towards the house, with the setting sun on your back, two irish setters at your heels and a pheasant in your hand
she pushed icy stones inside of her coat pockets, walking straight into the frigid water–
and i wish i could run back in time to save her
she wished for the most unlikely things
the grey fog was so thick,
the future was invisible
In the afternoons when i drive along the wooded path, I turn the music off and lower the windows. I want to hear the deer run across the woods, the leaves crunching beneath their black hooves. I want to see the hawk as it glides onto a lower branch, scanning the ground for small creatures. My breath becomes visible inside the car, the pup wimpers; my tires crush the ice with satisfying cracks and I drive on with the frigid silence embedded in my bones.
the marsh is frozen,
but then it thaws–
after several bitter cold days,
is solid once again–
and i can’t help but think how this pattern
is reflective of our little lives
spanishwoods 