“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

9.15.2014

sunday almost autumn


day softens into night and back again.

fall is just about here, which means it is warm enough to sit outside all day, but also cool enough to do so.  night falls early and confuses you.  you blink twice and the skies are darkening.

yesterday was a friend's house in the country with 3 dogs, one gone totally blind in her old age, but who nevertheless rolled in the happy spot of sunshine she followed around the yard.  it was a lot of talk about art and photography and new orleans, and it was walking barefoot to get more beer from the neighbor down the road.  it was water with lemon for me, and it was hours of laughter, and suddenly it was almost night.  i'd not meant to stay that long, but there were no mosquitoes, and the afternoon just slipped away.

this dragonfly was waiting to say goodbye, and there was a discussion about taking its picture, the photographer/friend shooting it against the open sky, me wanting the mood of the day in the picture. he thought a bit of background would interfere with the dragonfly's wings, seemed surprised i thought not, seemed surprised i wanted something besides those wings in the picture, but i knew the moment was the picture.  funny how that is.  i am so much less interested in the exactness and perfection of things, so much more about what the day has to say. i love the out of focusness of that one side of wings, blending into the sky and treetops, summer into fall, day into night, and despite me telling him i would photoshop it soft if needed, i knew i wouldn't need it.

and i didn't.  

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9.12.2014

stories from a broken camera. #1


early morning fog. semi-broken camera.

the path leads this way,
through fairy tales and what have yous. 
no point in getting upset when the man says it's not worth fixing.  
if it will take a picture, i will take a picture,
will follow this path and see what it teaches.  what gifts it brings.

this morning felt like,
what was it aragorn said?,
i'd strayed into a dream.
to be awakened by the meows of a cat,
she who'd followed me down the road.
almost cheshire, blending into the beginning of the day.

i like it already, one day in.

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9.10.2014

the morning after saturday night's rain


flowers in the street.
autumn is coming.

there's always the moment when you know.  when the wind and rain shake blooms from the trees and knock them from their homes in flower beds,  when the morning breeze feels different, as it does today.  i slept through last night's full moon, never minding the light filling my bedroom.  i never do that, even when i'm exhausted, but last night i did, and it was a good sleep.  perhaps the moonlight sang me to sleep.  moon as mother.

september usually moves slowly into autumn, and even at that slowness, i am usually sad to see it do so - i cling to summer with every ounce of my being.  perhaps my being weighs less this year, or perhaps i've finally learned what will be will be, or perhaps, maybe maybe, i am okay with autumn. perhaps we are learning to be friends.

it's warm still, in the mid 90s today, but then will begin to drop.  the sound of the wind this morning is cool, the trees and grasses moving in the come and go sunshine.

i have no story, but something feels changed.
me, the season - it's hard to tell.
i like the way this morning's one singing bird sounds.
this past weekend a dragonfly hit my windshield and it sounded like silver.
the bird this morning sounds like a diamond.
uncut.

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