Today I give thanks
for every life that has touched my own
for each molecule, atom, particle and wave
as it has moved through me.
I give thanks
that he said
"You look like hell" and
"You surprised me... I never thought you'd amount to much."
that she said
"Go on, write."
I thank tears, paper and flame
the small warm hand in my own
the arms that held me
the vastness behind those questioning eyes
Croonings and shrieks of unseen birds
the wounded and the whole
Mosquitoes and bats, seeds and finches
the mouse I released into the yard this morning
the cat that had left it corralled in a box
The stone in my shoe
the bone in my foot
the juice of strawberries
staining my chin
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
This day
My goals for today were to finish cleaning the floor so I could have a studio day, and to take a bike ride.
I had breakfast sitting on the east deck in the morning sun. I was listening to a streaming radio show from Lincoln NE (I do that to feel more connected to my son and family) when I realized sandhill cranes were calling from the creek. I muted the computer and listened, sharing it with BiL who had been inside. After a minute the cranes were silent. I listened to the show again, and again, the cranes began. This time I muted the computer, and even tho the cranes stopped soon after (maybe they heard something crane-like in the banter of the program) I left it off, and enjoyed the rest of my breakfast to chickadee and finch song.
I finished the floor as I listened to streaming NPR from California (again, a link with a son who lives out there). I swept water and mud from the garage and set the fans to dry it (this is swamp season in our garage if we don't stay ahead of it). I got very hungry and ate my lunch. I put in a new load of laundry.
I stepped outside to hang a shirt on the line and have a cup of tea, and I could not bring myself to go inside, even to have a studio day.
I did some repair work, instead, to the fencing that discourages marmots from using the deck for a toilet.
For the first time this spring I got to listen as a light rain fell on our metal roof. No bike riding today, but I don't feel compromised.
I felt very satisfied and very hungry by dinner time. I ate again, watching a movie with BiL.
We also watched our first rainbow of the season.
So much satisfaction in one day.
I had breakfast sitting on the east deck in the morning sun. I was listening to a streaming radio show from Lincoln NE (I do that to feel more connected to my son and family) when I realized sandhill cranes were calling from the creek. I muted the computer and listened, sharing it with BiL who had been inside. After a minute the cranes were silent. I listened to the show again, and again, the cranes began. This time I muted the computer, and even tho the cranes stopped soon after (maybe they heard something crane-like in the banter of the program) I left it off, and enjoyed the rest of my breakfast to chickadee and finch song.
I finished the floor as I listened to streaming NPR from California (again, a link with a son who lives out there). I swept water and mud from the garage and set the fans to dry it (this is swamp season in our garage if we don't stay ahead of it). I got very hungry and ate my lunch. I put in a new load of laundry.
I stepped outside to hang a shirt on the line and have a cup of tea, and I could not bring myself to go inside, even to have a studio day.
I did some repair work, instead, to the fencing that discourages marmots from using the deck for a toilet.
For the first time this spring I got to listen as a light rain fell on our metal roof. No bike riding today, but I don't feel compromised.
I felt very satisfied and very hungry by dinner time. I ate again, watching a movie with BiL.
We also watched our first rainbow of the season.
So much satisfaction in one day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)