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| I  my bike -- the shadow of a seven-year old girl, pigtails flying, scurries alongside me.
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| Almost autumn.
A spider
Stakes a claim
On a corner
Of the eight-foot window
In our living room.
Each morning
I admire
Taut guidelines,
Carefully placed spokes,
Dancing gown threads,
Architecture unrivalled.
My mother
Would not tolerate
Such slovenly housekeeping.
She would get a broom
And knock down
This errant squatter's palace.
I do not.
I am waiting for Charlotte
To leave a message.
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| i don't know how to xanga anymore because it won't let me write in the main entry text area so i'm writing a long title (never mind -- i finally figured out how to do but now it's too late and must continue down this road). kind of made me lose my train of thought which was going to be about the st.giles fair that has blocked off downtown oxford for the first weekend in september for almost 400 years sending smells, sounds, sights into the air. small children taking their first determined efforts to drive their little motor cars in circles, young teenage girls traveling in gaggles eyeing boys, park and ride buses up and down canterbury rd because of the deviation, frazzled parents tugging at tired kids. autumn has truly arrived. | | |
| i sat in my window today and wept for little girls who look in their mirrors and see only blemishes, for all the boys who somehow never measure up. i wept for the woman who taught me to believe i was a princess, a child of the King, but who can no longer remember her name.
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| a single solitary snowflake fell as i stared out my kitchen window today. then a single crow flew and perched in our tall backyard tree. nothing more. and i thought about the power of 1 and wondered how that snowflake decided to leave and adventure out and whether it was glad or lonely. and then random thoughts of how connected we humans are to nature and how we allow it to inform us by humanizing snowflakes and crows. and the power of metaphor. random wonderings of the day. | | |
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