I look at things. I guess most people do, but I wonder what everyone else sees when they’re looking. I suppose that’s what conversations are for. Conversations make me tired. I guess that’s why I’m a writer.
Read MoreWhen I was a child on the shoreline, my sister and I would build sand castles when the tide was low.
Read MoreWatermelon rind is an earned privilege. It means you are with - in community, at a potluck, part of a familial unit. At the store, I buy for one. I purchase precut, ruby cubes enclosed in clear plastic.
Read MoreOn Sunday I watch the sun set. From my little balcony, I sit on the deck floor, chairs still folded behind me from a storm last week. They are slim and still and patient, like butterflies with damp wings.
Read MoreThis morning my spine aches right down the middle. I have extended and curled the train track and left a message with the conductor at the station about routine maintenance.
Read MoreSummer’s trying, and honestly that’s all I need. Just one small indication that the planet is not against me, that nature is moving forward, that a grass smell-filled, warm and swooshy breeze will still ripple through the green leaf streamers and rustle that organic rhythm.
Read More