“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


the looseness of night

after the pink, the sky looked like storms,
and i was with it,
i was with it,
driving through the almost darkness into night be here now,
baseball on the radio,
bone tired from a day that fit too tight,
the leftover noise still loud 
and beating hard against the moon.

but even such days as these hold gifts.

at last home, i unlocked the door
and the waiting cat was off into the night,
under the trees, stalking the finally silent moon;
the shadow of an owl flew out from the corner magnolia,
crossing the street, then back.
i followed its sound from tree to tree
until it settled at last in the hackberry.

the night fits so much better than the day,
just skimming my skin, a barely there touch.
i slipped into it without even noticing.



  1. Oh! You have the gift, woman! Those last three lines totally changed my nrevous sytem~~I am there with you in that place.

  2. when we meet, we'll sit up late into the night. maybe there will be owls. xoxo

  3. You have such an amazing way with words . . . they washed over me like a lullaby.

  4. night fits so much better than day, like the welcome relief of rain after a dry spell

  5. "the night" skimming my skin and slipping into it... - ah how perfect an ending

  6. "but even such days as these hold gifts".

    yeh, baby. you know it. the beauty of your words, they be the gifts of THIS day.


  7. your words, your sentences, your thoughts never fail to intrigue me. and always, always calm me.
    amazing words...
    thank you emma tree.
    in fond regard, Tilda

  8. i love so many lines in this, but i think these are my favorite:
    "bone tired from a day that fit too tight,
    the leftover noise still loud
    and beating hard against the moon."

    I know that day, that noise, that poor cringing moon.

    this is filled with magic, the magic you spin so beautifully, the magic i love.

  9. holding these words and images in my heart

  10. Where does this stuff come from in you?


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