tapestry

Clock-broken silence
Thoughts working over one tick
and under the next
Weft and warp

I'd

magnolia II

...because I've never seen them like this and I can't get enough.

hang on

or let go...

either way this girl will take you there!

magnolia

...feeling a little strange, a little nervous -- this uncommon warmth -- and I keep walking around telling myself I should wait for "real" spring to begin before I go getting all excited, but it occurs to me if I wait I'm going to miss it.  

raise a glass

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbor's burden within reason
And your labors will be borne when all is done
And nobody, nobody knows
Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don't carry it all don't carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun

there are some

...who don't seem to mind a little more rain.  

springsong

still

Very still.  Time will pass at speeds immeasurable but this late afternoon is full of quiet and the possibility that it might stand still as well -- if only for a moment.  Magnolia perfume, clouds, even the sun seem suspended and the wind holds its breath.

favorite blue

Days are mighty -- full and fast.  I wouldn't trade them, unless I had to, for twilight.  The emergent moment between blue and black.  Bats and stars know what I mean.  

this head i hold

fan -- in spite of excessive close-ups on hipster shoes.

from the field

i feel big

The Most Astounding Fact from Max Schlickenmeyer on Vimeo.

you got to

what i am

Straight Talk From Fox
Listen says fox it is music to run
over the hills to lick
dew from the leaves to nose along
the edges of the ponds to smell the fat
ducks in their bright feathers but
far out, safe in their rafts of
sleep. It is like
music to visit the orchard, to find
the vole sucking the sweet of the apple, or the
rabbit with his fast-beating heart. Death itself
is a music. Nobody has ever come close to
writing it down, awake or in a dream. It cannot
be told. It is flesh and bones
changing shape and with good cause, mercy
is a little child beside such an invention. It is
music to wander the black back roads
outside of town no one awake or wondering
if anything miraculous is ever going to
happen, totally dumb to the fact of every
moment's miracle. Don't think I haven't
peeked into windows. I see you in all your seasons
making love, arguing, talking about God
as if he were an idea instead of the grass,
instead of the stars, the rabbit caught
in one good teeth-whacking hit and brought
home to the den. What I am, and I know it, is
responsible, joyful, thankful. I would not
give my life for a thousand of yours.
 --Mary Oliver

soft

wild leek shoots greening the deep wood floor
swelling velvet magnolia buds
the smell of turned fields like open tombs
the quiet work of trees
hushed cawing of crows
my footsteps as the earth yields to my weight
warm rain falling like a shroud

grace

Dodging clocks.  Looking for places where time can't be kept -- and long moments in warm sun made for eyes-closed drifting between here and there -- waking dreams of light in which thoughts can neither be traced nor claimed.  Returning to this world with small lists of regrets and large lists of everything else -- but also with clear understanding that there is nothing so important as the giving of thanks and the offering of love.  

good point

You can't STOP me from "getting any ideas..."
--W. F. Karr

shine

consider the oyster

Its chilly, delicate gray body slips into a stew-pan or under a broiler or alive down a red throat and it is done.

--M.F.K. Fisher

wandering at night

a brief essay

Heavy clouds that yield to sunset and stars.  Woodsmoke and breath heavy in thin air.  Every footstep through frozen grass an announcement and a reminder.

divining

inquiring of the god of small things...

a god who answers 

in the architecture of insects

the poetry of trees

the lightness of being

and the tender but determined nature of renewal