Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Quiet Night Walk
With gratitude and a slow rhythmic pace, I walk inside the coils in the dark night. Nothing is revealed, but I take out with me bumps left by hungry creatures who fed on my blood.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Prepping
| Close-up and faraway |
The perishables have been eaten. The floors are swept and vacuumed. The dishwasher is running. The plants have been watered. All that's left to do is pack, but I can't seem to make myself pull out the suitcases.
Cruzin'
Familiar landscape invades my senses on the drive back from the local library this hot July day in Atlanta. The stacato sounds of the honking of cars behind me add to the traffic noise. Heat pours in the open window as I smell the dry breeze mixed with exhaust. The red and white tent of the vegetable stand pops out of the green. I taste a trickle of sweat on my lips.
| honking cars |
| hot pavement |
| skyview |
| tent |
Monday, July 4, 2011
Routines
| Water pipes in the hallway |
Footsteps
Stop and rest awhile, take your shoes off and sing a little diddy with a child. Say, "Cheers!" and break bread together. Ask important questions and listen.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Connections
| Tree on the walk by Mission Bay around late afternoon |
Thinking of Lauryn in the Labyrinth
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| Lauryn's rock |
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| Nestled by the sea |
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| Shadow play |
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| Wakling shoes |
| Located as I enter the center |
As I near the center of my walk today, I am again reminded of the love of mother and daugter. A smooth, round, ocean rock lies near a conch shell and it has a small chip, upon which my thumb rests, when I hold it connected across the miles.
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