“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 poem woke me at 5

and i scrambled the light on
and found the moleskine,
the thin one i accidentally started backwards and upside-down,
and i said the words out loud over and over until i found a pen,
until i wrote them down,
until the paper kind of smiled with their upward slanting imperfection.  

or perhaps it was the predawn songs of birds,
or the plopping open of pear tree blossoms,
a sound so soft it is cousin to poetry.
this new sunday morning blooms wet and late.



  1. perfect
    "a sound so soft it is cousin to poetry"
    really, couldn't get more perfect

  2. there you go again, painting pictures with words. Beautiful, soft, nearly transparent images floating around in space and time. And I smiled with a snicker at the backwards and upside down start of the moleskin.

  3. those are the moments to honour, the ones that wake us with poetry....

  4. oh... those two lines.. the ones about the pear tree blossoms.
    They provoked a long, satisfying sigh.
    It's that kind of writing that makes me fall in love with words, over and over again.

    I love how that little piece of perfection is paired with the imperfection of your backwards journal writing. lol.
    Such a sweet post.


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