Pale

Beyond a morning's imagination and yet the concept of an afternoon is forming.

You can grasp it between the folds of green.  This green begins with the canopy of oak trees.  Let's remember, too, the sun is its own mirror.  Of course, this is one person talking to herself.  Tea at her side. She's thinking of calling her friend, dear Eleanor.  

 

Eery and familiar

as your hometown 

sometimes it takes 

only 3 words

If you knew...

this were a photo from the inside of a carwash, would you be disappointed? Would you rush off and get your car washed? Would you smile & sip tea? None of the above is always an option. As is, cooking. As is, making a poem. As is, walking. As is, all of the above.

Imaginary stars

matter and for the record are of matter. The imagination is one of my most tangible and long-standing friends. I look up and am surrounded by family -- both 2-legged & 4-legged.

Visual joy from the unexpected

A mushroom roasting on a grill. Another time, a poem which doesn't look like a poem, but tastes like one. Sometimes, poems are too hot to touch. As in an over-roasted poem is an over-edited one. Not tasty. Comes down to the tasty and the untasty.

Tissue paper

The overlay of tissue paper and the quiet layering it creates is soothing magic where I could lose myself only to find myself. Like reading a well-written, engaging novel. Like roasting vegetables, especially carrots. Like reading a poem that the mouth craves. Well, this isn't tissue paper, but there is magic in the calm , in an everything-ness.

The amazing energy in a spiral

Perhaps, it's the linking of opposites: inward & outward. Like the mechanics of the mouth. Food goes inward and the tastes "explode" outward. Similiar, the taste of good wine, the taste of a balanced/imbalanced line of poetry.

Sometimes it's what you don't see clearly

that holds the most impact. Of course, the "thing" that is clear to you, helps share & define the vague. If this were physics, the law of opposites might apply. Might not. The same holds true for poetry -- however you wish to define.

Black and beige

Shadows are sturdy in their flexibility to come & go without regret. Never linger too long. Slip in and out of time like the memory of a great meal. Like the slipping away of a line of poetry that just entered your eart.

When something appears related to something else

it probably is. Example, this stunning Feijoa is in the myrtle family as is the bottlebrush. Some things which aren't related are connected by our senses. For example, corn & tomatoes, peanut butter & jelly. Isn't the mind an adventure all in itself. Paths are endless. Much like making a poem. Finite words; endless possibilites.

Getting a handle

on things via a spoon is a fine afternoon activity in a favorite cafe. Pen/paper close by. Memories, too.

A simple walk downtown

can invigorate, can bring a beautiful sight-fragrance into my life. Like discovering the power of a lemon slice to invigorate a meal. Or the unexpected yet just rightly-weighted word in a poem. A simple word which simultaneously roots the poem and makes it soar. On such a walk, I think about opporsites and how they might not be so.