Sisters

Rocker & prayer shawl.  Full of holes for the soul, for the story, for the retelling of light, for the coming of dark.  For the next bowl of homemade soup, for orally publishing a poem.  Rock on in gratitude, sister, for the shortest month arrives.  [Thanks, Linda, for the hand-made prayer shawl.]

Wheels or bulbs?

These wheels remind me of spoons set deeply in a drawer of many spoons, of many knives.  Like a poem which is really 5 or 7 poems when pen separates the bulbs.  Gestures really. Whether Spring comes from wheels or bulbs, may she come.

Forming & dissolving

in equal measure
with equal intention
& somewhere
within hearing
the seesaw
stilled
as each
month
comes
to closing
the next opening
the same true
with a meal
with the next
scattered
gestures
penning
air

Velvet makes everything appear

suspended, as an artifact, as a piece of cherished jewelry.   Any or all.  Consider a wooden spoon left on the counter.  Consider a single word on a page.  

Curiosity

To me, this would be the eye of curiosity looking inward, looking outward.  Perhaps, water is involved.  Definitely, wings & a fine dusting of light. and a spot of red. Thinking about which food & which words will feed curiosity, is curious itself.  With soft eyes of a cat, for sure.

Tilt your head

Just a fact of life and of seeing.  The same is true with feelings, cooking & writing.  And always, always true with writing.  Trunk, branch, sky & implied roots.  Or perhaps, this is a new calligraphy standing firm for  "abundance."

Some landscapes invite you to dream

Here's one such landscape, and she has her eye on you.  Yes, most landscapes are feminine -- at least in the English language.  In the kitchen, the feminine reigns.  Spoons in particular.  When it comes to writing, that's another landscape for dreaming, and again, she has her eye on you.

Familiar & familial --

faces are everywhere.  It's the very nature of living -- things & ideas.  Ah, those eyebrows tufts, wouldn't they win over the heart of ice.  Speaking of ice, do you know how to make persimmon ice?
Speaking of heart, do you know the best way to edit an haiku?

Life reflected

is a palpable landscape, for sure.  Imaginative, too.  Much like a recipe with substituted ingredients. Like a poem edited so its inverse is witnessed.  

An abstract rendering of a persimmon

persimmons will soon be unavailable 

except as memory

which is an excellent fall-back plan

as is anticipation

now

I'm gearing-up for asparagus

fava beans

& any poem 

which chooses 

to appear

It's a new decade

and I'm running toward what feeds me.  Sometimes, persimmons are the thing itself.  But don't you think a persimmon is also a dandy word.  While I'm at the Bancroft Succulent Gardens, it's the image of that persimmon tree in winter with a few pieces of remaining fruit, beyond reach that touches me.  I'm sure birds are grateful they have wings.  

Intentions

may all
intentions
honor
the light
& the dark