“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

1.18.2014

saturday january, soft and bright


morning sun through a back window.  by midday i have to squint my eyes against its brightness and by late afternoon the room is blinded.  at 2 a.m., a neighbor's porch light throws shadows of the trees across the walls and refrigerator, and lights my way to the freezer for ice, while the moon, falling away from full, sits high in the opposite sky and whitewashes the back porch.

the truth about light.
it enchants us.
even the darkness is defined by the stars.

calendars track the length of days and follow the moon, and stories are better told around a campfire.  at night i read by the light of my kindle's cover, and my cat rubs against it, making her own lightning, sending it shimmering around the darkened bedroom, dark, sparkle, light, daaark, light.  i light candles for prayers and hopes and wishes, and let them burn too long, their wicks curling back into the hot wax.  winter is celebrated with fairy lights and summer with sparklers, and you can never have too many windows, at least not here in texas.  at day's end, not yet sunset, as the sun begins to disappear, i sit and i try to not think.  feet up, drink in my hand, cat nestled next to me.  i wait for the night and the stars and porch lights to show up and come on.  the soft time of day, full of whispers and exhales.

this evening, today's not yet night soft time of day, the trees seem all limbs and bones from the ground up, tiny leaves still tipping the ends of twigs, the weather coldish but the doors open and my feet bare.  the sky is the color of a pearl.

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2 comments:

  1. This is what I'm talking about. A moment; no plot, no need for 12 stages of the hero's journey. It's all here, or maybe this is the hero's journey. Hmmm, maybe the hero's journey takes place in a moment. Reread.

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  2. sigh... you painted a picture of words that i fell right into. i am missing the sun, missing the soft time of day. here, in winter, it happens fast and hard. for a moment, that moment, i was there, woth you.
    xoxo

    p.s. naughty kitten is always rubbing on my kindle as well... i'm thinking that next, cats will learn how to read. :)

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