Harvest

coiled, crouched
to pounce.
waiting patiently
to strike perfectly.
how much prey
do i need?
less than i can get.

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Falling Rain

flat light begins to
brighten the grey clouds
but the rain still falls.
the cold drops
bring a chill to my shoulders,
icy fingers on the keyboard
despite the heater
and the warm coffee
beside me.
i gaze through the
spattered pane
at the wet world
seeing nothing.
my thoughts on where i sit:
between. waiting.
my story falls open
to a different chapter
than yours.
i love you
but our lives
are divided
by a veil
like the sheeting rain.
scripts
populated by a different
cast of characters,
locations separated by
miles.
years.
in some ways we will
always connect.
and in some ways
we never will.

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Joy

I'm finding myself to be occasionally overwhelmed with happiness.

Oh, there are plenty of times where I am frustrated with research or tired of dealing with those annoying things we all have to deal with or sad that another friend is moving away or overwhelmed by emotions other than happiness. But lately, I have moments where I am simply flooded with joy. It may come out of nowhere for no reason. It may be for a small reason, like having internet at home again, or hearing from a friend unexpectedly. It may be for medium-sized reasons, like the giddy butterflies of a crush. Sometimes it's for a very big reason, like the amazing people in my life, or the excitement that I get to go to THIS!

Today I found myself literally jumping up and down for joy twice. And while both reasons for jumping are quite wonderful, overall, I just feel happy. Content. For many reasons. And for no reason at all.

So Much Happiness

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn't need you to hold it down.
It doesn't need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
and now live over a quarry of noise and dust
cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities
of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records...

Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.

Naomi Shihab Nye

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Rusty

Between the flu and laryngitis, with a little fun in between, I haven't put much effort into my new space here. I am still feeling my way a bit in terms of how it will take shape.

Do I want to write about what I'm up to? School is (mostly) off-limits.

Do I want to write about dating for the first time in 13 years? For the first time since I was 18? Yikes.

Sex? (Hi Mom!) Probably not.

Politics? I'm sure I will at times. Occasionally I just can't keep off my soapbox.

Or do I just want to post pictures and let them do the talking?

Because everything is new I feel self-conscious I feel more comfortable in my own skin than I have in years.

Near the beginning
a few tentative steps
I scan the horizon
consult my guidebook
Map and compass reveal
possible routes
but the way is still unknown
Paths disappear ahead of me
into the shaded woods
across meadows dancing with flowers
up a mountainside among the boulders
out into the desert under blazing sun
into foggy mist by the ocean cliffs
There is no looking back yet
Everything is new
anything is possible

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Beginning to float free

November 1968

Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials

You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin

How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind

~Adrienne Rich

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