I walk the dogs and write raw poetry. Won’t you join me?
In an impossible month,
in the aftermath of an impossible year.
Twenty twenty-one, you have inherited a mess.
I’m hopeful for tomorrow
and frightened,
and I wish for everyone a sudden and compulsive love of knitting
and kindness.
Moon grows.
May peace do so as well.
Sgiob is singing a little song to herself,
something to do with chasing the bouncy ball
and having a cool stone lintel to lie on when she gets too warm.
The sound is close to a purr,
tonal
and it is both comforting and nostalgic.
Something about “this lovely life,
yet I have memories which are not mine
of great flocks and open places.”
It’s not as dark out there this evening as it was yesterday.
Earth rotates, revolves, moves on.
but there used to be a soul-eating demon out there, coming in through the windows,
slipping in as blackness right around the edges where the glass meets the frame,
eating me hollow so that nothing but a husk remained,
going through the motions.
I don’t know exactly when it left,
but out there it is only the Night, which is a good friend.
On the occasion of the expansion of our clan to new adventures and new locales.
May your dragons guard you, Daroc and Adrienne.
Diffuse, gentle.
The house is quiet,
lit only by the lights of the tree and the possibilies of a new year.
Dog between my feet.
That’s a pretty darned good thing.
Very, very early,
before I was fully awake
and the wonderful thing is that we found the soccer ball.
The soccer ball is full, full, full and frozen stiff this time of year,
so Max must catch it and roll it with his chest and tummy
and sometimes overruns it
and tumbles tail-over-snout
and then rolls in the snow
and we all laugh and laugh.
That puts the sparkly diamond on the day even before it has begun.
Challenged me to write all my gratitudes for the entire year 2020.
It went on for pages and pages.
In the midst of bad news nationally and globally, I am grateful for the time
the time,
the peace,
the slowing, slowing, slowing.
I look forward to this morning’s task,
this morning’s giggle,
this morning’s chuckle,
One kind of vacation has been one hundred sixty six and a half hours,
and that turns out to be plenty.
I get to see my writers again!
and I hope they are as glad to be mine as I am to be theirs.
and I can tell it’s a dragon by the red-hot, yellow-hot glow under the ashes.
Still fierce enough to consume the boxes and branches with flame when I make an offering.
Thank you, Dragon, Guardian of the Sun, for keeping your charge alive through the night.
Thank you, Dragon, Guardian of the Sun, for resting here on your endless way.
My daughter has a Great Blue Whale stuffy which she has not actively played with in years, but which gives comfort,
And yesterday when we were moving heavy things it fell to the floor, unnoticed.
This morning, Sgiobalta found the Great Blue Whale and carefully picked it up in her teeth and carried it to her bed under my desk.
I wonder if it gave her comfort or companionship.
It is just the right size to rest one’s chin upon.
It has snuggled the house in a blanket of protective, insulating, gorgeous fluff,
enough that a Small Dog almost got lost!
and I thoroughly plan to go sledding this afternoon.
Thank you, snow spirits.
First thing,
and I was reminded that the walk must come
first thing.
Later in the day is possible, but it requires planning
and finding a break in the schedule,
even though the schedule is to remain at home,
safely isolated,
waiting.
So if we walk first thing,
all that nonsense is shaken loose and the day can proceed apace.