“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


at night these words glow

in the barely-there light of the streetlamp across from our building.  it's really a street light, but i love saying streetlamp, because it's a word that conjures up different places, other times; it sounds more romantic when i say it out loud.  they are the top of a painting, a meditation on things i love, a list in white paint scrawled across a big blue painting that has never felt quite finished, but this image has pointed me in a new direction and it feels like the right direction.  the painting is propped against the wall behind a framed mixed media piece and pieces of words stare out at me, parts of phrases.  i lay on the couch in the dark with lily cat as company and watch the words grow brighter as cars pass, then fade as shadows from the old iron burglar bars pass over them, then back to their soft glow, and ideas come to me.  it is always at night when i find the best words and i am tempted to try writing by starlight to see what might come.  with a pen whose ink is filled with the light of the moon. 

this painting will change, and others will follow.  i will need a magic potion for paint; the shadow of an owl in flight mixed with the copper of pennies flattened on railroad tracks by trains headed west, christmas trees still jeweled with silver stars and white lights, the eerie lonesome sound of a dog barking in the cold distance, my mother's pearls slowly stirred into the eye of a tornado.   

a rose by any other name would not be a rose.  perhaps i will add a white rose. some fir needles.  a snowflake caught on my tongue. 



  1. This is so beautiful. it is a painting in words.

  2. So descriptive, felt like I was there with you seeing through your eyes.

  3. i imagine the idea of words glowing as the light changes ..starlight even.

    the unfinished pieces of art always seem to come back don't they

  4. i think your pen is already filled with the light of the moon, and this image surely looks as though it is.

    "my mother's pearls slowly stirred into the eye of a tornado."

    i could think about that line for days. perfect.

  5. Such amazing images you are creating by the light of the moon. I am loving them.

  6. Your inspirations are gorgeous, my friend.
    hmmm....writing by starlight....if only.

  7. How beautiful. I read this yesterday and it keeps coming back to me - your magic paint potion.

    Must find me a pen filled with the light of the moon...

  8. oh my, this is beautiful. night has always been one of my best writing times, too. I love the image of you just sitting in the dark, watching those words glow and fade and glow again, letting inspiration come. *dreamy sigh*

  9. While I wish beyond reason that I could be an artist ~ I satisfy myself with the truth that I am someone who is moved by, and fully appreciates, art and artists.

    Your words definitely did create a melancholy-like beauty in my mind and I wonder how this will translate for me in my own reality.

    I'm learning this is one of the wonders of artists - they create images that later manifest in some way or some manner in the lives of those they touch.

    I'm also an appreciator of words - and I like streetlamp too.

  10. Can't tell you how excited I was to find you in Artful Blogging Yesterday. I love that mag and find inspiration and joy in it. Imagine my delight to see you there too! Yea for you! Thanks for continuing to delight us all.


come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .