3rd House Journal

This morning

After a feast of several sunny days, a quenching rainy morning. No lights, no radio, just the tinking of the rain spout.

Work, again

Tightly balled in a word-woven clot, working, source-citing through the night, waking with an urge to uncurl and grow wings.

Late morning

The slumbering sun stirs under gray blankets, opens one eye on the watchful faces of leaves like hungry chicks, turns over and yawns.

Walk after rain

The department store cologne-spraying ladies
got nothin' on my neighborhood's spring blossoms.

In May

All day white flurries fall
on the sidewalk the slow melt
of pear petals.

Outside my window

White blossoms sleeve the trees in the grove
like many-armed goddesses dancing in the breeze
their hennaed hands nestling chickadees.

Clearing too late

The dark pulls over us tonight like a heavy woolen blanket, its striped white and amber fringe receding to the west.

The view this morning

A sopping gray granita has been slathered on the ground and sluices down the street, left overnight by drunken pixies too sloshed to toss any sparkling fairy dust.

Yesterday, 6pm

Released from desktop, deadline, Steelcase, sweatshop... to playground: brown rice, asparagus, pea sprouts, pineapple, almonds, chutney and vinegar - sweet joy!

Seed pods, January

Stiff stars twitching in the stark wind, paper-dry reminders of last summer's blossoms that swaddled plump bees suckling within supple white petals.