One long, dark hair, a gentle loop, clinging to the shoulder of my shirt.
Jul 162011
I’ve discovered that my mind resists the act of observing after a day of work, that in fact it takes several days away from work before I begin to observe effortlessly. This disturbs me because it is good work, and one would think that observation is a valuable skill in almost any work. And yet, [...]
Jul 142011
July acorns cluster by the hundreds on the branches of an oak tree, embryonic, weightless. The July sunset, minutes earlier than a month ago, as our part of the earth turns away from the sun, unnoticed. A breeze that gently moves the wind chimes is the first stirring of winter.
Jul 112011
The sharp tang of ginger in a swallow of lemon tea, the golden beam from a lamp melting into a brick red wall to form a semicircle of caramel light. An envelope, torn open on the side, words of hope spilled out across the desk.
Jul 102011
One leaf among thousands, it is conspicuous only at death. Parchment brown and brittle, it falls to the ground when touched.
Jul 092011
A patio chair, an unexpected oasis in the concrete desert. An ant, a veteran nomad, takes refuge in its L-shaped shadow, waits until dark to travel.
Jul 082011
Awkward, imposing, homely, too big for its surroundings, won’t be told where not to go. Exuberantly climbs abelia as if it were a playground gym, all the way to the top, leaps fearlessly for an overhanging branch. Wraps tiny arms around whatever stays close and still, holds on for dear life. Leaves, serrated like a [...]
Jul 072011
Music of bagpipes floats the waves of wind and sound across the field behind the house, into my windows, closed and curtained against the summer. My jaded dogs yawn, ignore my amazement, as if a dozen more miracles are sure to occur before bedtime.
Jul 062011
In a tree across a busy street a dove makes a four-note call, “Where are you now? Where are you now?” Cicadas hum and buzz louder than the cars. A dove of another variety cries, “Here, brother. Here, brother.”
Jul 052011
Two women sit across a small table, phones before their faces like shields between them. One must check for messages. The other needs to make a quick call. Their meals arrive and one says, “I have few regrets”, then speaks the words “grandmother” and “children”. She says her daughter feels a sense of entitlement and [...]