I started
to ask myself
when did it begin
How many days?
365 in
most years, so
has it been 1,825,000 – or more
even science doesn’t know the answer
Some would say
quantifying things is important
even necessary – but
Life might be about each
moment –
how would one possibly
find a way to tally them all?
So, while
I begin
with these words
it is about neither a beginning nor ending.
He didn’t brush the hair from in front of her ear as much as caress it to better display the earrings he’d given her for their anniversary Without a word his brief gesture spoke leagues about their relationship and his feelings. How is it that a cup of tea or a touch can say it…
At the end of the second floor hall was a step (up) and door leading to the third floor Among the small spaces created by the eaves I could hide and feel snug except Just before Christmas when it was off limits Straight ahead the attic peak held a random assortment of boxes, suitcases, furniture…
I know I hear the silence more and some times catch myself listening to cars approaching from up the street Sitting on the front steps at night the stars are so beautiful, they almost make me cry Some times I can’t explain how it feels.
August hangs heavy in the air uncomfortably cloaking all who venture outside August forced open its eyes later this morning than yesterday labored breathing hissing over soon ssooooon (I found a cicada lying silent in the street on my morning walk today) What happened to May’s sweet promise the glittering dance of June July’s sultry…
After reaching the waterfront she settled on the old concrete bulkhead next door I at the end of the dock Maisie rested against my hip as Fox and I regarded each other from a suitable distance A few water birds passed lazily overhead but did not disturb And so we sat ignoring, and wondering about…
Sometimes life smarts – well, backward glances and forward hopes perhaps Examining – or not what it means to live a life “well lived” Striving to shoulder daily responsibilities, the shoulds, oughts, musts – while necessary – perhaps noble in some small way? Sometimes in quiet moments of reflection, it feels as if the shouldering…