White Ravens – And More Stories
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Tag Archives: home
I think the word flit was invented by someone watching chickadees.
Moss spreads through my lawn. It’s green and soft: no mowing. What is wrong with moss? (top: hdwallpapersfactory.com; bottom: mountainmoss.com)
The freeway is the ocean, the stars are just as high, but fewer. I am tired, but can still pretend what is real is somewhere near, not a lifetime away. My imagination saves me again. (top: en.wikipedia.org; bottom: lovethesepics.com)
Dusty adobe words make a wall I am building, keeping out the wind. (wall: featurepics.com; home: pinterest.com)
The east wind blows cold, ruffling the hair where it lays against my ears. It smells of fir, river, and traffic. My urban life is a friend with whom I often argue. I always question my place in it. Answers … Continue reading
The grass, bent with breeze, wets my shoes and pantlegs. It tastes of salt and smells of rain as I stand sinking into the sand beneath. My knees are calm, my heart bright; my senses know when I am home. … Continue reading
Piles taller than me; it’s time to deal with The Stuff, creating lightness. Dredging up the past, memories only to keep; planning to move home. Thirty years hide here, scrabbling beneath profound dust. Maybe we’re crazy.
(Note: Travel day today. We’re headed 993 miles north, back to the northwest winter. I’m okay with that.–jrs) Dear Biped, Lots of grass to eat today. We’re in that big meadow behind your house, which is mostly dark and has … Continue reading
Faded, fluttering, falling; the wet driveway holds fast to my eye, true color. (photo courtesy of photography.nationalgeographic.com)