Are there small stones at work?

Uncategorized 2 Responses »
Jul 152011

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, close observation is not a skill I use. 

Do you feel this way about your work?  Does technical, abstract thinking (such as programming and software design) train the mind to turn off that part of itself?  Or can it be turned on and strengthened, even on the job?

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Small Change

Writing No Responses »
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.

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Last Things

Writing 1 Response »
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.

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Harbinger

Writing 2 Responses »
Jul 102011

One leaf among thousands, it is conspicuous only at death. Parchment brown and brittle, it falls to the ground when touched.

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Oasis

Writing 1 Response »
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.

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Morning Glory

Writing 4 Responses »
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 kitchen knife, yearning only for the sun, so much like a human heart.

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Piping

Writing 2 Responses »
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.

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Evening Call and Response

Writing 1 Response »
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.”

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A conversation

Writing 2 Responses »
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 that everything has come too easy. She reaches out for someone who’s not there.

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Look at Me

Writing No Responses »
Jul 042011

Yellow pickup truck screams to be noticed by my eyes.

A yellow stripe circles the top of the building across the street. Yellow letters above every storefront, yellow lines in the parking lot. Yellow flowers in the flowerbeds.

Once observed, they appear everywhere.

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