playdate haiku
red lint in my hair
googleplex hours of talking
a bruise on my lip
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spring in all its glorious madness
The Sacrifice by Rites of Spring on Grooveshark “It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.” ~Rainier Marie Rilke It is stormy today on this first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere. For me, it is the perfect texture for this day. Spring can be a time…
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![bricolage project day 6 [beginnings]](https://kymberleedellaluce.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/bricolage_project_10-06-15.jpg)
art | Bricolage Project | creativity | divine | grace | inspiration | photography | projects | quotes | self-excavation | the delicious nowbricolage project day 6 [beginnings]
The Beginnings and Ends of Shadow Today’s randomly chosen word, beginnings, comes from the achingly beautiful book, Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan. I got the book for my daughter and ended up reading it. I’m so glad I did. It’s the kind of story that takes your heart out, squeezes it hard, heals…
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for the sake of love
A Bridal Song I. The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look down,– Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,– Never smiled the inconstant moon On a pair so true. Let eyes not see their…
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autumn bliss
at dusk cartwheels on the grass sister teaching sister with ubuntu the crunch of dried autumn leaves fading red sun shimmers on the river pink cheeks hair tumbling wildly we watch our breath appear on the exhale moments woven together with great laughter and love in autumn bliss
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a snowy day
My day began in darkness. I padded out to the kitchen to put the water on for coffee, noticing the blanket of stillness tucked all around the morning. As I waited for the water to boil, I let my skin drink in the moonlight that was eagerly gushing through the windows and let my mind…
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there is this moment
It is such a misguided notion to believe there is any other place to be but this one– the sweet smell of rain (the droplets falling on the very paper on which I was writing this), surrounded by poetry. A church bell chimes nearby and machines whirrrrrr all around me. The cacophony of seagulls crying…
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