She considered purchasing shade. How much? Good shade or side-eyed shade? Cool shade or burning shade? Grey or gray shade? And look! custom made simple. Custom shade, tailored to the increasing shade demand. And 'lo, does she, we need that light-hearted, slow burn, revolving, evolving shade. Especially now that it's women's history month. When does that shade shoppe open? How can she get some?
A bird does flit or fly or tweet
but the bird doesn’t hang on to every mean feat.
A laugh may travel across the sky
but the laughter doesn’t come at the expense of you or I.
I know why we need to value our own worth
and stop feeling that others have judged us harshly from our birth.
The shame cycle of ‘never enough’
causes us to defend the castle or to bluff.
For we are made for heroic jousts,
for the equal swordfight, not for the lion’s roar to the mouse.
Equal in battle, in fair play, in rhyme.
We are meant for love and understanding not for lying.
So set aside the buff, the cower, or the care.
We are opening a can of ‘lookee here!’
Follow the heart, open the breath.
For if we are judging — or fear judgment from others — we cause our own premature death.
February comes, a month of hygge,
squirrels burrow in the knots of trees,
stalks huddle in the too-cold shade,
waiting for the glimmer of a warming sun.
February kills my high,
bums me out.
with its soft slow snow, feathery fistfuls.
February, the heart-smacking,
wait for longer days.
For the spring of birthdays,
of another hula hoop,
scoop around the sun,
for stronger days,
when the shoots doesn’t break in the brittle cold,
and the loon calls from the lake.
And even the Met opens her front doors, wide,
like a seamstress, ready to unfurl her crazy quilts.
inspired by Bill Christophersen’s February.
There’s a noise in my chimney.
that only the dog and I hear.
Of course, I wear hearing aids and the dog is finely tuned for sound
so it could be that we’re special?
I worry that some poor thing’s stuck in there–
not a vicious wolf in the wall (a la Neil Gaiman).
And it’s not that I’m scared. No, not me.
I’m not scared,
not at all
You’re scared, not me.
There’s nothing in the chimney.
but this morning when I walked away from the house, with Charlie on the leash,
he and I looked back at the house,
at the tin man’s hat at the top of the house.
at the top of the chimney.
A black bird was looking down the chimney. It called
for a lost chick
down my chimney.
Why a lost child? and not a lost spouse?
I’m surely projecting.
There’s no wolf or black bird in my farmhouse chimney.
Chimney’s are jolly places, just ask Santa.
I thought I just heard a slight thump
or a scampering.
It was the wind.
There’s nothing in the chimney.
Yet I hesitate to start a fire.
We need a fire in the fireplace for it snowed last night,
a little drafty at the beginning of spring, at the tail end of winter in the Adirondacks.
I’m happy to do nothing.
It’s only me Pandora who hears strange noises.
Well, me and Charlie.
Yesterday we bought Charlie a dog bed. And yes, he loved it.
But the dog flipped it over and lay on it, upside down.
“Oh God, you really are becoming my dog,”
I thought with a little dread and a little relief.
Who else turns things upside down?
Who else hears wolves and birds in the chimney?
I’ve been writing my posts first thing in the morning. I wanted to write about Earth Day today. Earth Day for 50 years! The commemoration lands on April 22, because it is the fullest, richest day of buds and blossoms of the whole year. Well, this morning I did not notice the beauty of springtime, because, again, WE HAD SNOW TODAY!! But here are a few pictures of flowers in the past. And they will be in our future too. Have hope.