Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

It’s all clear to me now


What I need on one of my bookshelves is a slender, rejoicing figure no more than three inches tall, bronze in color, perhaps, although another cast or shading might do as well, with feet planted in such a way as to suggest a high mountain scene, ecstasy, an approaching thunderstorm, magic, motion, male at a glance, female in dance, a butterfly’s pose, a winter wind’s pause, a cool face in the mirror of a pond. And all of this because I moved some books around.



April postcard


One way to explain the liquid sunshine drenching the street in a crystalline shower of near cloudless rain, is that life is so helplessly and joyfully abundant, she weeps. And of course there are other ways, but all send their love, just the same.


So light so early


So light so early . . .

earth thoughts, cloud shadows, treetops . . .

and in the east, beyond the mountains,

deep in the high desert,

the sun not quite done with her bath . . .

Yes, it is like that this morning,

said the window

to the man.



Monday, April 17, 2017

Just enough to wash away


Last night’s rain was a brief round of applause — a tenth of an inch, just enough to wash away the rainbow chalk mark games the neighbor kids made. And so when they come home from school today, they’ll have a fresh blank canvas to write on. Much like the sky this morning, already filled with the script of joyous birds.