The old man on the porch calls out to the couple walking behind me, “hey, are you two married?” The young woman responds with enthusiasm – “We’re engaged!” She shares this as though it’s a recent development. Momentarily, her joy pulls out my crankiness and brooding. Though not enough to appreciate the sunshine.
Category: Writing
Daily Fifty-Two: May 16, 2023
I stare at the dining room table and the mess that is my scattered energies: two stacks of documents that need to be sort, bank checks from an account I closed, several books of poetry and a notebook, a book a friend shared with me, an external drive, paintbrushes, plants, breakfast plate.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 15, 2023
Aside from a few birds singing and chatting with the most urgent news, evening does what evening does… falls, descends, envelops, arrives without fanfare. There are no spectacular gradations of lights. It just becomes dark and the houselights go on – kitchen, living room, bedroom. It’s all quite unremarkable. Don’t tell the birds.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 14, 2023
The kitchen smells of onions, garlic, bacon, and collards cookin’ on the stove. The rest of the house is wood-smoke and barbecue. Mesquite and hickory seeps in every open window. The dog doesn’t understand dance parties in the kitchen or the simple pleasure of a beer on a lazy back porch Sunday.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 13, 2023
When it rains, it’ll be the type of rain that begins slowly and lightly and eases into steadiness. These aren’t the clouds of deluge. These aren’t the advancing thunderheads from which birds will flee. A house wren sings in a nearby pine. A line of shrubs bloom fuchsia in the graying dawn.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 12, 2023
The echo of lumber and plywood being tossed on a demo pile reminds me of the echo of lumber being tossed. Reminds me of the nail gun pops of a roof being installed. Reminds me of the click clack sound of a skateboard jumping and landing in the concrete plaza. Click clack.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 11, 2023
A single plane streaks across a slate blue sky. Its contrails glow white with hints of peach. It falls like a shooting star. When the plane is gone and the trail has disappeared, two blackbirds chase each other. This stop-motion animated sky can only hold one bit of action at a time.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 10, 2023
Because there is no pool, no sandy beach, no rough jetty, there are no lifeguards here. No whistles to warn when out too far, or the currents are strong. Mistakes are easily made when no one’s around admonishing us to walk. In my closet, a beach towel. There are no lifeguards here.
A Type of Writer’s Block
We humans are, or can be, a miserable lot. The last few abandoned blog posts have all started with complaints about the weather. We had a string of 8 or 9 days where it rained every day – and for a few of those days the temperatures were in the 30s. By contrast, the last…
Daily Fifty-Two: May 9, 2023
The motor whirs the spool of nylon round and round chewing through the grass along the edges of the house, the fence, the shed. The noise is fat and slobbery like raspberries on a baby’s belly. Daylight fades to the high chorus of rpm. Thankfully, I don’t need to hear myself think.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 8, 2023
Savor the morning light, the coffee steam, the robin’s song. A squirrel bounces from limb to limb shaking the rain from grape colored maple leaves. Zipping birds race their shadows – up the walls, over the house. The grass is thick and green and drying out. Nature’s to-do list on a Monday morning.
Daily Fifty-Two: May 7, 2023
Gray clouds with mauve underbellies paper the morning sky. In this light, the dogwoods glow phosphorescent white. It’s barely 6 am and I’ve wandered through half of a day’s worth or worry and pondering. Will it rain later? What’s for dinner? Where am I going, can I take the plants with me?