“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


february 28 all the way to now

in autumn a girl's thoughts turn to glitter and trees gone golden and far off red and she is reminded that all things end, all things; it is nine months from the morning her mother died, and this cold november morning welcomes a new person, her bones the branches of an empty fig tree.

i stood in her backyard this weekend, leaves ankle high and shushing my thoughts, 
at 6 weeks, the heart begins to beat in a regular rhythm, 
by 8 weeks i had ghosts of fingerprints and i left them on the walls of her house,
at 2 months, the embryo responds to prodding,  
at 4 months, quickening,
i moved on my own through the beginning of the summer's heat.

flocks of  leaves huddle on the tree limbs, nestless, settling for the night against the wind they cannot defeat, all things end, all things, and she walks away from their emptiness into the warmth of the house.



  1. This took my breath clean away. Beautiful and heartbreaking but coloured through with hope. I just love it.

  2. nine months. a new person. birds and bones and wind and warmth.

    and yes, hope.

    here you are.


  3. Nine months is a very long time when you feel every second...


  4. I know your journey. Thank you for sharing.

  5. All things end, and still, all things are everywhere to see again, to see anew.
    Beautiful visual.

  6. sigh - i feel there is a dawning of hope.

  7. Loving your words. Wrapping you in warm thoughts. Oh yes and I would like to sit under that tree and have cookies too.


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