April 30, 2017

marking the path








So, do you do this for yourself? Do you lay bright fragments on the path to guide you when you come that way again in the dim light? Sticky notes on the mirror, emergency chocolate in the cupboard. Do you leave marks of love and courage for yourself?




April 27, 2017

talking of stars


 

Let's stay up late and imagine the secret philosophy of stars. We could compose something wild and lovely between the dark sky and the candlelight, you and I. We could forget about time. And when the dawn dragged down our eyelids, hiding our own intimate stars, we could fall into silence, while the world danced.

This morning a swan flew over me in the gentle, frosted sunrise. It called to where it was going, as if it cast its longing ahead of it like a path. I'm sure we all do the same, sometimes.


art by sulamith wulfing
 

April 26, 2017

if we were to go walking




If we were to go walking together, and talking in the quiet morning before stopping for tea and biscuits (perhaps throwing most of the biscuits to swans on the pond or sparrows in the wild grass), we might not say much that was special, because I am shy and cautious. But if we were kindred spirits, then we might talk about the poetry of light upon the landscape, the mood of the trees, memories of books, and what magical things we could see or almost see, and so much more besides. And we'd do a lot of not-talking too, gazing at skies or the smallest wildflowers - if we were kindred spirits. We'd each have a book in our bag of course, and paper and pencil for writing or drawing. We'd be in no hurry.

And it would be morning by preference, so there was the afternoon for remembering, resting, and letting the experience mellow into story.


illustration by jessie m king
quote by mary anne radmacher