“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


a bit of l'air du temps for ink

a tulip tree floated by, startling me.
pink. all in pink,
all in flowers.

there is an owl in the knothole
of the tree around the corner.

i spoke today to an old friend in Arizona,
and remembered the snow in her mountains.

the tenth day of love has arrived,
and this is my confession,
that lately i care much less
for images and words so perfect.
today i admit my love for
words that are a perfume on the inside of my wrist,
images that whisper sweet nothings,
for a posy of thoughts
wrapped in torn blue strips of cotton,
my favorite dress of long ago summers.
i admit my love for the spaces between thoughts,
for the words not needed,
for the missed focus,
for the down-the-rabbit-hole
movement of a photograph,
pulling me with it.
small stories.
for the not being able to tell
where the words end and life begins.


  1. Oh that is a beautiful way to live...love this post!

  2. oh. oh. oh. this is so beautiful.

    my story: the roughness of wolf hair and smell - my heart contracting with wonder and love at the beauty of their eyes. the sun falling on a falling leave. a flock of birds flaying over my head and under the sky so blue with white streaky clouds. the smell of grass, of skin, of love.

  3. love love love....words like perfume on the inside of your wrist...swoon !

  4. Such a beautiful abstract - your words divine! I yam what I yam - love it!!

  5. the spaces between the thoughts....the words not needed. it was so long ago. i can almost not remember. but i do and i am full of a sweet yearning.

  6. and this? this exact thing? this is wabi-sabi.

  7. Ahhh....I remember seeing a quote once (or did my old piano teacher tell me this?) that it's not the music that is so beautiful, but the space between the notes..the silences. It is so so true.

    I can't believe how many owls you see. They really watch over you.


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