Reverie
Standing on the top of the mesa an hour before sunset, I watch the angry, dark, indigo sky clear to cloud-puffed blue. The storm ends as quickly as it came up, it’s fierce blustery wind blowing open the ancient windows
Standing on the top of the mesa an hour before sunset, I watch the angry, dark, indigo sky clear to cloud-puffed blue. The storm ends as quickly as it came up, it’s fierce blustery wind blowing open the ancient windows
It’s Not Always Pretty: Wabi Sabi, Shadows and Creative empowerment
If the intention in our art is authenticity, then nothing gets spared or glossed over. Shadows are engaged and reckoned with as much as sunshine. What is ugly or …
What folly it is to try to capture something that feels like a slippery fish: you’ve got it—and then it flies off the line or out of your hand, flipping and gyrating back into the water: splash! You can describe…
The Long Pause
I miss the quiet, empty spaces,
ears re-tuned to birdsong;
making bread and growing things;
sitting on front porches waving to passersby,
the neighbors we never met before;
idle walks and talks and noticing
the …
Daily wonderings
As i walk through my neighborhood each morning, I am struck by a random thought. However absurd it seems, I follow the thread and a story emerges in the form of a poem. Today it was “meeting one’s …