“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

3.12.2012

begin again


it was 70 some odd degrees when the sun fell behind the trees;
the silhouette of an owl dropped from high in the hackberry tree,
wings spread open wide gathering the dusk the twilight the end of day,
pear tree blossoms kissed my shoulders good night as i rounded the walk
into the back yard behind the house beneath the trees beside the fence.
just when i think i can say nothing else about the cherry laurel
or the smell of sweet olives
or the petal scattered sidewalk, sprinkled polka dotted moon dropped,
lighting my way in the darkness,
march shows up again and reminds me there are stories still untold.

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9 comments:

  1. I would not have been able to walk by that owl ...

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    Replies
    1. i saw it from my couch. just the silhouette and it was gone.

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  2. Beautiful words, so true, yes they are. Love that there are more stories to be told. Can't wait.

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    Replies
    1. i always think there are no new stories, but in truth, every day is a new tale to be told. xoxo

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  3. i do so appreciate:
    a bit of owl.
    the end of a day.
    untold stories.

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    Replies
    1. a bit of owl - i like that. it was swooping down from the tree and just disappeared into the almost-night.

      muchas gracias for the bit of poetry. :)

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  4. Glad to see they are still watching over you, those owls.

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