heirloom

heart afire

practically magic

"Sometimes I feel like there’s a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there’s a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing… I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don’t know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don’t want to believe it but, there is no man. Only that moon.”

love love love

    a poor man shames us all...do you like my song? i'll sing it for you.

courting

from the side of your eye

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again


Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind


the cave, mumford and sons

call and answer

1. last night i heard the owls.  one calls, and then from the west, another returns the same call.  this happened all around me. and i was comforted. all calls out are returned, if you just listen right.

my heart, my joy, my inspiration. five.

friend



today i had a lovely time with my heart friend. we sat,
we talked, we walked and we connected. all without wine.



boy thoughts

if i were a boy, i think i would look something like this. my cologne would be new mown grass, sawdust, old spice, and a touch of woodsmoke. i would know how to make bread, be amazingly kind, and i would be patient.  i would have dreams that smelled like patchouli, maple and spiced tea.  i would plant a patch of poppies and play music for the person in my heart.

berks co. bakeoven

dendron

autumn thoughts

tonight. my daughter takes my hand, and says come with me. she wipes my tear stained face and settles me into the black wicker chair where annie faces the window. she draws me hearts in the perfect shade of robins egg blue with machine that makes black eyed susans grow all year. she offers to start the woodstove, she says we havent used it in years. she takes my hand, unlocks the dining room door, pulls me to the porch and tells me to say goodnight to the moon. that should work. as she yells at the cloudy night sky, i look over. her hair is gold even in the dark. her hand is warm. and i realize that i need nothing more than this to feel right again.
we walk inside and decide that we might be boys for halloween.

texture

girl

pretty..

rest revisited

Rest is not idleness,

and to lie sometimes on the grass

under trees on a summer's day,

listening to the murmur of the water,

or watching the clouds float across the sky

...is by no means a waste of time.

----John Lubbuck

rest