I hear crickets. The even hum of them, the inhale and exhale of their sound. I hear them beyond the air conditioner in the hall, and my fingers on the keys, and the traffic from 83. I hear them as I fall asleep at night, I hear them when the evening sets and the sun… Continue reading crickets
Month: August 2018
The West Village
Off the grid. Made of winding old pathways with cobblestone and brick buildings hugging close together, telling secrets. The flower boxes, bright red and hot pink, are saturated in the setting sun. Out of every corner bar, with a name gold-leafed on the dark windows; comes the aroma of wine, wood floors and whiskey. I… Continue reading The West Village
prayers of hope
All of you that changes is welcome with me. All of you that shifts when the wind blows. All of you that let’s go when the Burden becomes heavy. All of you that learns how to pick it back up again and carry it longer. All of you that tastes sweetness and sighs. All of… Continue reading prayers of hope
A Keeper
This past weekend from the window of the car; as I passed state after state heading north west; I saw the small dustings of autumn. It wasn't hard to miss, a few of the trees were touched slightly yellow and even more so a few days later, bushes were vibrant red and orange closer to… Continue reading A Keeper
wishing stones
A dream. A dream about a big backyard and glowing sunset filtering through the trees. Twinkle lights hung abound and laughter punctured through music as if it were written in (in pencil, of course, at final dress). A cello, soft and low; a whisper, sweet and promising, and a ring of flowers in my hair.… Continue reading wishing stones
A prayer for the Sentinels
To Mom and Dad Who have stood and watched patiently as I lay stationary, trying to find a way up. Figuratively. I imagine the two of you like this 29 years ago as I first learned to walk, Standing somewhere close by whispering affirmations and atta' girls but knowing I had to learn how to… Continue reading A prayer for the Sentinels
From the top of the years
This was written on January 5th of 2018.I am not sure I am any closer to this life that I dream of. But What an interesting moment to look back on, within my sorrow such clarity. "In the quiet moments of my day I often daydream about so much more than I have. I don't… Continue reading From the top of the years
Now and then
April 2018 This is what you do, my pet, when the airplane of your love has gone up in smoke: You land it (maybe) in the best way that you can. You let it rest on the grounds of some open field in the middle of nowhere where all is unrecognizable, including the tremor in… Continue reading Now and then
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