When I come across a long lost book, for example I flip to random pages and see if they have anything to tell me.
from Keep Going by Austin Kleon, 2019
Excerpt
Tag Archives: writing
Crows in the Snow
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
A letter to January
Dear January,
You are long and bleak, you are monochromatic and suffocating.
You curl around yourself like a sleek grey cat, turned inward, oblivious and self-assured, unfazed by your chilling effect. I want to like you, to embrace you to see the good in your wintry silence, but your indifference haunts me and I am left counting the days until spring.
a garland of thoughts
she writes pages and pages of words–
long convoluted sentences
pared down to a small handful of rounded letters,
strung together and
waiving in the wind
New Year
the new year can bring a feeling of starting over,
another chance to get things right
Heart
there is a piece of my heart
that always and forever
leads me right back to
you
The Lonely
for the lonely,
the past haunts with a vengence
Lately
kicking leaves on walks
berry pies
Gene Autry
this book: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by Caitlin Doughty
young bucks eating pumpkins
gathering greens from the fields
a healing pup
balsam candles
The Details
sometimes the details of life make it hard to breathe,
make it so that my heart feels squeezed and i tell myself to keep it together–
often i feel foolish because it isn’t over heroic acts or poetic words
it isn’t intense emotions over politics or rhetoric or what’s right or what’s wrong with the world–
it’s about a robin eating berries in the snow (why didn’t he migrate?)
and a detail in the railing that made me look twice,
it’s when a man holds his wife’s hand gently and absentmindedly caresses her arm,
it’s the 1968 photo where faces beam with hope and happiness,
and how his goodbye was a little hurried, like ripping off a band-aid and shaking off the sting
Excerpt
…a dying star can light the sky for centuries after her fall.
from Vanessa and her Sister by Priya Parman, 2014
