The god of small things
My heart is glad. I awake in a room bathed in luxurious glow. How unhurried the day. Sauvi is curled into herself like a sweet roll, shielding her eyes from the morning light with her paws.
In another part of the world it is twilight.
Twilight
Is not a time for sleeping
Or figuring things out
It is a time to rest the eyes
Waiting for the dark to come.
I am custodian of memories it is not yet time to release. Bitter embers still hold fire. I am lucky. Blessed with the capacity to navigate paradox, dwell in ambiguity. Like taking the number 1 line and shuttling to Grand Central. It only takes one fare.
We started on the braise, sautéing the aromatics over medium heat. Visited
After quietly unwrapping her presents,
Fortuitously, I stumbled across a manual Smith Corona at a garage sale, preserved in its burnished shell like a walnut.
With the author’s permission, I offer this poem to you.
Home
Snowy mountains towering over the trees
seem so close, but yet so far away
A still breeze blows,
moving snow across the ground.
All you hear is silence,
except for the sound of your footsteps
crunching on the white
leaving prints behind.
All seems empty
no one’s here
but at the same time
it’s beautiful.
The air smells of pine
the birds sing their songs,
deer run freely,
the mountains full of mystery
this is their home.
Expect nothing
appreciate everything
girl of the meadows
crested red flame
waxing so long.
Wishing for you deep peace, tender times, infinite blessings.
yours,
the joyful apprentice.
9 comments:
Before computers and computer printers I had a typewriter just like thst one.
Tell her the poem ewas great.
the poem is lovely, happy and hopeful with a sweet touch of soul
please tell her that for me
and ... I adore the sound of typing. The sound of words! :)
ahhhhhh
Gabrielle, there is a peace imparted through these words of yours, one enhanced by the poets words.
It is twilight here...the final rays of light fading as the warm arms of darkness embrace the world...
Reading your love kissed words and the words of this great young poetess....
I am Taken deeper into the stillness
of this night
To sit awhile with
the mystery
of all of this
The wild ocean of love
waving us all into being
The heart of the universe
speaking
through the voices of young and old, black and white, wounded and whole...
Words of love...
That flow out like painted angels into the wild night,
hitch themselves to a star
and shine love to kindred souls across the waters....
across the waves...
What a miracle it all is...
What a miracle you are...
I bow my head in thanks to the God of small things,
For your beautiful words,
And for the wild grace which i will never understand,
Maithri
The poem is beautiful. I'm sure that living with a poet like yourself is a great inspiration for her... as she is for you. So much love in this post... and so much beauty.
Best wishes for a joyful New Year.
Sounds like a lovely Christmas. I wish I could have been there to enjoy it with you and Dad and Emma. She has always had a way with words and is developing into a wonderful poet.
Be well friend and when the snow melts may it's bounty come forth in the garden of your being.
A beautiful post
Dr. John - I will tell Emma you enjoyed her poem. Thank you. I too had a typewriter like this one. We had good times together. Did you know that Studs Terkel wrote all of his oral history on a manual typewriter? I remember him bewailing the fact that he could not find anyone to fix a broken key.
Dianne - Thank you, Dianne. I will let her know. The poem is an outward manifestation of Emma’s beauty . It reflects the way she sees the world in all its goodness.
And yes, the palpable sound of words. Lucky me! She seems to prefer her typewriter to the PC for now.
the walking man - Thank you. I am honored that you were able to grasp the peace that enveloped us this day.
Maithri - Words of love...
That flow out like painted angels into the wild night
Loving Emma is easy.
She has endured such brittle loss in her short years, yet like a tender sapling, she bends as the winds blow through her. She has a joyous spirit and a zest for life that springfrom a remote alpine source. Quite a teacher, my daughter.
Across the waters,
sending fragrant breezes to you.
Thank you for your sweet song, dear friend.
Raven, - Thank you. I am humbled by your words. It is the beauty in your heart filled posts that has inspired me to start writing again. Emma will be happy to hear that a kindred poet enjoyed her work.
MB- We missed you too. Hope that you were held in the warm embrace of quiet times with Dean and the kitties. Til we enjoy long simmered meals together again.
Walking man – How lovely.Thank you. I am dewey eyed.
My wish for you: the still slumber of new snow, the buoyant flight of the falcon, the dreamless landscape of the eternal.
Minnesotablue – Thank you. May the new year be filled with gentle wonder.
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