Monday (Tuesday) Morning Confession
I confess that often I feel unmoored--
whether it's the people I loved (and love still)
who with their parting, unlooped ropes from a dock,
tossed them into the water--
whether it's another kind of ghost altogether,
one of my own making, a specter
of success and arrival that floats
always just beyond my fingers--
whether it's some untold longing
I can't feather or clothe
that surfaces, glistening like a seal,
eyes dark and unknowable--
and whether unmoored
answers after all this compunction
to dip my oars, push water,
feel my boat glide almost silently
through flocks of seabirds,
under bending madrona trees--
I must remind my heart:
unmoored means questions,
journey, wandering, discovery.
To be content in untethered,
to be glad in open water--
that is the secret the seabirds know.
*
Sitting next to a ghost with black round eyes painted on the glass, partially blocking my view of the busy sidewalk outside. The draft blowing steadily from under the window molding keeps me alert in this warm coffee shop--my favorite here in downtown Poulsbo, where they know I take my cafe ole in a 16 ounce mug for here, where I can chat while the barista steams my milk. It is a nice feeling, the closest I get to a work place among others. When I work from home, Charley finds a cozier, softer place away from me to nestle; he doesn't chat and he doesn't make me coffee.
Yesterday, lots of Halloween hijinks, for which I will provide a selection of photos for your perusal here:
whether it's the people I loved (and love still)
who with their parting, unlooped ropes from a dock,
tossed them into the water--
whether it's another kind of ghost altogether,
one of my own making, a specter
of success and arrival that floats
always just beyond my fingers--
whether it's some untold longing
I can't feather or clothe
that surfaces, glistening like a seal,
eyes dark and unknowable--
and whether unmoored
answers after all this compunction
to dip my oars, push water,
feel my boat glide almost silently
through flocks of seabirds,
under bending madrona trees--
I must remind my heart:
unmoored means questions,
journey, wandering, discovery.
To be content in untethered,
to be glad in open water--
that is the secret the seabirds know.
*
Sitting next to a ghost with black round eyes painted on the glass, partially blocking my view of the busy sidewalk outside. The draft blowing steadily from under the window molding keeps me alert in this warm coffee shop--my favorite here in downtown Poulsbo, where they know I take my cafe ole in a 16 ounce mug for here, where I can chat while the barista steams my milk. It is a nice feeling, the closest I get to a work place among others. When I work from home, Charley finds a cozier, softer place away from me to nestle; he doesn't chat and he doesn't make me coffee.
Yesterday, lots of Halloween hijinks, for which I will provide a selection of photos for your perusal here:
 |
| Victorian mask. No more to say. |
 |
| My sister-chicken, overshadowed by horse |
 |
| My lovely witchy mama |
 |
| Beatrix, Beatrix! |
 |
| Aphrodite and Juliet |
 |
| Wisdom and Magic |
Comments