(with thanks to Paul Simon on Brigid’s midwinter feast day) The prompt was to write a poem inspired by a song, and so I did. Midway between the winter solstice and the shush of an espresso machine I stand hypnotized by the sound of water dripping, my feet shifting on sticky linoleum. The tule fog … Continue reading The Roots of Rhythm
Written with the prompts: springtime, accepting limits but pushing for more, wonder about the ivy, there is always a little girl standing in the corner just staring, Maddie in the grip Maddie is in the grip of a good story, her pale face illuminated by the blue light of her Kindle. It is winter inside … Continue reading In The Grip
Continuing my December theme, I give you my own personal ode to oranges. . . Oranges are loud. Oranges are splashy. They are not subtle. They are not shy. They may be as big as softballs, but they consider themselves to be miniature stars, small globes of fire, a reflection of the solar energy that … Continue reading Juicy
Greetings! This week I've updated a Christmas post from a few years past. It seems more meaningful than ever right now. Long ago, in the pagan cultures of the far north, work and travel were severely limited by cold and snow as days grew shorter. Farmers and their families would remove a wheel from their carts … Continue reading Meditation on an Advent Wreath
Written with my Thursday night writing group with the prompts: the gray cat stared at him, enjoy the ultimate, cockroaches and ghosts shared the space, we are awed by our nine-hour innocence, began five years ago, after the equinox, pete/peat, imagine, landed on my blanket, the day after yesterday, I am from America, I never thought, … Continue reading The Day After Yesterday
Written with my Tuesday group with the prompt: traditions that become oppressive! Long ago, in the pagan cultures of the far north, work and travel were severely limited by cold and snow as days grew shorter. Farmers and their families would remove a wheel from their carts as a sign of surrender to the great … Continue reading Meditation on an Advent Wreath
Every year on Pearl Harbor Day, I like to tell the story of my late mother, who was picking oranges with her best friend on December 7th, 1941, when they got the news that the Japanese had bombed the US Naval Base in Hawaii. Â Every year after, she picked the first orange of the season … Continue reading Juicy
Wallowing in post-holiday exhaustion/annoyance/envy/loneliness yet paradoxically grateful to have some alone time, then BAM!--stunned by the unexpected yet unsurprising news that a good friend has died, and suddenly I am so damn sick of being accepting. Â I think, who came up with this business where people routinely die, just disappear--the roles they played go … Continue reading Blessings in Disguise
