ecstatic ... but more than that, this crow against the clouds is an absence of cloud, out of which crow surges ecstatically ....
now, some days later, i can't help but think of the pattiann rogers's poem "Opus from Space" and this which we discovered yesterday:Almost everything I know is gladto be born - not only the desert orangetip,on the twist flower or tansy, shakingbirth moisture from its wings, but also the nakedwarbler nestling, head wavering toward sky,and the honey possum, the pygmy possum,blind, hairless thimbles of forward,press and part.let's you and i have much with this forwarding)))xoerin
what must it feel like to where at a whim one can lift oneself up, escape the tethers of earthbound, maybe the mundane and soar above it all?i appreciate your intermittent visits
nene, surely you know.(and i appreciate your heart.)xoerin
How often do we do just that?
oh, rosaria, if you do this often then you are living well. now, let's try to do this oftener:)xoerin
i 've missed winter. i 've missed you.
m.)) oh, yes, winter! i've been starved lately for autumn's poetry for surely winter is right behind her. and even better, starved for winter herself which comes, comes, comes:)))))i've missed you too. where have i been? (and you?) certainly somewhere. i keep disappearing (often even from myself).xoerin
"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))