standing in the crossfade
While on my walk today, I felt warm spring sun slip into our icebox .
Window Thinking
While on my walk today, I felt warm spring sun slip into our icebox .
If there is no moment, but this moment what are we to each other?
standing at the edge of town watching the sun go downnever gets old
Skiing across trails of memory, I stopped at the bridge to say thanks.
Waxwings light in treetopsthen explode to the sky in synchronized flight
Mellow late day sun plays in the cloudsbrightening the slop where I stand.
Living in hard places can be okay if your people are there too.
Trees filled with chickadeessinging a morning songI stopped to listen
If your spring break plans include a picnic in the park,pack a shovel.
Following trails through the mountainsbeneath a great big skyI am small.
When snow falls in piles taller than you standand spring delays,I’m sorry.
We watch for the day winter melts awayand we shall feast in spring green.
In this, our fifth month ruled by snow and ice,lights still shine in the dark.
Ashes to AshesDust to Dustthis life held in a common, small word
We lived in a house at the western edge of town when our boys were young and Alaska was brand new (to us). From the other side of that gate We learned how to say home. That was before we left. And then came back. Sometimes I walk by and remember. See Also: Marking 6 Months and Finding Home …
The history of slavery is the history of the United States. It was not peripheral to our founding; it was central to it. It is not irrelevant to our contemporary society; it created it. This history is in our soil, it is in our policies, and it must, too, be in our memories. – Clint …
I go walking with ghosts of myself on the sidewalk of memory.
ice rainbows, light pillars lift the fog and there’s the rime water in play
and I used to walk the dog in morning dark at 10 below,I’ll say.
Six churr-full hens on winter holiday accept room service with thanks.
old photos in a box sparks of memories may burst to flame when dumped