morning haiku in a new home
fierce wind dances with wetness
warm coffee on tongue,
a jet pushes through the sky
The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably….
It’s been a minute since I’ve written on this blog, chief among them graduate school at Antioch University Seattle. I’ll be finished soon and my thesis is done. Done. It won’t be long before I have a piece of paper that says MAEd. It’s hard to believe, to be honest. It’s been a long and…
an old woman in a scarf rocks a baby back and forth in the sunlight a man works a crossword sneaking glances at the pretty baristas Dolly serenades us with her trilling vibrato the steel guitar adding a pinch of melancholy your morning kisses linger on my lips like the scent of flowers everything feels…