2 days ago they painted the across-the-street house,
the house that once was mary's;
call me judgmental, but i know an ugly color when i see one.
they cut all the climbing roses,
30 years of yellow blossoms,
those that dangled over the driveway and climbed the roof,
and they chopped off part of the catawba tree,
sacred, older-than-the-neighborhood, now partly gone.
full of anger and tears, and up to me to deal with my changed view,
i moved the furniture in my tiny front room around,
and suddenly, accidentally, i have studio space.
see how the universe works?
the couch no longer defines the room - it is just a place to rest.
the entire west wall is for creation. words, paintings, wrapping christmas gifts.
for years i have thought to make this room a studio,
to let the living room go.
the truth all along was to let it live.
august break day 10.