Dancing with North

In their little kitchen

last week

I held him and we swayed, sweet

rhythmic prelude toward sleep.

Groggy grandson 5 months short of two,

every time I hear this song I

think of you -

every time I think of you,

a smile.

Flexibibbles

 Today
inside,

  looking out, at

  happy, chattering 

birds on the

 shed roof 

it seems  the  predicted rain did not arrive;

the sun-splashed lawn lets shadows dance,
  & I can hang
the clothes out-
  side after all, it means

 plans should be flexible,
 allow for alteration, because  
you just never know when things
 you thought would Be, just Aren't; and

what you never expected can come bursting

 through to refill apple carts, make you consider
some rethinks are warranted, like you could just go

with the flow as if you know it'll all somehow balance out.

Life is            also

  what              what

 we                we
see,                flee,
 try,               cry, 

do,                stew,

and               Man.
 

_____________________________________________________________________

Ouch.  So much for the

impromptu poem of the day.

   When sleeping or leaping 
is sometimes the same -
in both you "let go"

Singing in the dark,

off mark

"Blue", our youngest feline:

Catillusion

__________________________________________________________

Note to Self:

It occurs to me that

 everyday things need not be

necessarily responded to, addressed,

 commented upon, reinterpreted, redefined,

 made into something "More"or other,   or re-

purposed as part of some  impulsive creative process.

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 0     0

[]

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 [______]

u

u

u

u

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                                                                   xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx                                             

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Like one listens, ha ha.

__________________________________________________________________________                                        

Boston Departure Blur

squiggly lines ascending

(or are they descending?)

taken from the bus window

on the way back

Leaf Talk

awynart2016

indoor leaf, outdoor leaf
the conditions under which we detach -
a caretaker's  growing indifference,
prevailing winds,
thirst gone unquenched,
severance from one's roots

if you're temporary, you might get replaced by another
if you're perennial you get to come back,
have another chance
to re-die, or bloom

do the leaves whisper amongst themselves
about themselves - I wonder
what they say

Rethink

Some things are so predictable -

spring follows winter,
summer follows spring;
sunrise, sunset,
people being people,
models, patterns, habitudes.  Nothing
surprises anymore - the same 'ol
same 'ol, following Tried 'n True. Except
not all tries turn out true
for some; for you.  The decision to
participate,
reformulate,

be more of,
or less of
something  . . .

      Anything.

When stopping to smell the roses, you can fall

into the invisible crack in the landscape, distracted
by the mirror-like puddle that wrests your
gaze.
      A rose is a rose
      and mirrors don't lie, which is why
      it's
not the where, not the when, nor the how - it's the who in Unrest
left forced to assess what's followed from what, to
rethink that seasaw,  go
'other'.