Beginning

-

The mountains shrouded
With swaths of wispy clouds
Sweetly white where they cling
Like babes to their mother’s breast
And snow falls fast, feather upon feather
Blotting out the brown and gloom of winter
Promising ice-kissed spring not far behind.

The slopes of old regrets
Go sweeping down
Fast, fast upon the mountainside
Until the depths are reached
Darkness and despair in the canyons
And everywhere shadows
And everywhere paths pointing north

At the precipice
An empty hour
Bird calls and swooning wind
A thousand syllables of lost love
Buried in the scent of pine and moss
Growing things asleep in beds
New tomorrows under foot.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

On Becoming

-
Image
When my daughter was born, a new person was born inside of me.  One that thought a lot more about what it meant to be other, outside, and different.  I had lived my whole life inside the comfortable confines of being a middle class white person.  Sure, my parents struggled and lived on the fringes of consumerism.  We had enough, but only just.  My dad worked hard, my mom worked hard, and we got by with enough.  I never spent a whole lot of time considering what not enough looks like.  I had what I needed, I never went hungry, and my parents provided toys and movies and other entertainments that are the hallmark of what we might consider American life. But, when my daughter came to us with a complicated background, this new person inside me started to wonder.  Why were circumstances for others so different from my own?  How would her life be different with another family? What if her birth mother had decided a different path?   These questions, and lots of others, were pushed and enlarg
Read more

Forty three

-
 My sister told me I should blog again.  A lot has happened since I did this thing - I'm a little rusty.  In the last few years, I've sort of relinquished the dream of being a writer - like, a real writer, not a hobby writer - and so the act of writing became...less.  Less important, less often, less satisfying.  It's an instrument out of tune. Why relinquish the dream? Life got busy.  A lot has changed.  In the 5 years since I blogged regularly: My son graduated high school and went on a two year mission for our church. My daughter turned 12, 13, 14, and 15.  Fifteen!   We moved a couple of times. Trump became president.  I got a job and started teaching, then principal-ing and now director-ing.  I'm buried in it right now. My brothers both moved away. A pandemic. My parents moved away (just last week, after a long time planning). And lots of other small and big moments, mashed together in a blur. Now here I am, still trying to figure me out.   I used to think that whe
Read more

And I didn't prepare a speech!

-
Image
My first, and probably only, blogger award! Yay! Thanks to That Girl in Brazil, not only uber cute but uber sweet. I'm supposed to pass on the love to other bloggers by linking them and then posting in their comments. But, seriously, how much more ad space do you guys need? Ok, ok, fine. I pick Mary cause she totally posted her flip flops. And justRandi cause she said she'd come to my house if I sent her an invite. And llegue because she made reference to a certain male body part while shopping in Wal-Mart, plus she beats me at games. and Heather because she makes me giggle and she comments even when my posts are lame. Just passin the <3 I feel super guilty for not linking everybody. But, you wouldn't be on my blog roll if I didn't think you were super cool.
Read more