when the sky looks like blue satin
and the leaves rustle in the wind–
all is well
Blue
Tag Archives: trees
Every Sorrow
“…I’ve discovered over the years that the simplist explanation is almost always the right one; and that hunger of one kind or another–desire, by another name– is the source of almost every sorrow.”
From the book, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
A Smell
i picked the pine cones and carried the smell on my hands the rest of the day
and it reminded me of that time when we were young and we played by the swings
where your grandfather killed the big snake and my grandmother made us lunch,
we ate our lunch by the pines behind my house and i could taste the smell of those trees on my toast and carried it with me through that day, through my life and into today, 40 eternal years later
Dream Fog
she had dreamt of a fog so thick that it clung to her like draping wet webs upon awakening
Crying Trees
i watched the leaves fall gently from the trees
and for just a single moment, i thought the trees were crying
Lost
we have lost our way–
losing one another and so losing ourselves
Awe
For many days in a row, I found bloody feathers beneath a tree. I wondered if the culprit was a hawk, or an owl, or a cat. And then yesterday, as I was coming home from the little market down the street, I saw a small sparrow hawk with the flight precision of a fighter pilot, swoop under the tree. Immediately the tree emptied of other birds with shrill shrieks and frenetic chaos.
Walking over for a closer look, I watched him. It occurred to me that maybe I should be repulsed, or saddened or even frightened. But I was awe-struck. He looked down at me, straight into my eyes and I nodded, the tiniest little head nod, before turning away.
Who
repeatedly throughout those years she was asked,
“Who do you think you are?”
and after all this time, she still has no idea
Their Sorrow
the cherry blossoms weep, and i feel their sorrow
deep in the marrow of my restless soul
The Past
i dream of the past and suffer all over again
Spanishwoods is 2 1/2 years old. In that time I have brought only positive light to these blog pages. But for the next week, it’s going to get a little darker. One week of meloncholia. One week of a negative purging of sorts. If you have no desire to read a stormier version of the woods, skip this week and I will see you again in mid July.
spanishwoods 