I spent the day finding out how lucky I am. Earth infused the breeze with the scent of living rain and grass. Friendly hearts nodded as if I could not fail. Nothing can stop the magnolias now, and never mind the the crab apples and lilacs wrestling and straining against their cocoons of dark becoming even as we sleep.
Thanks, Mom, for bringing me here. I love you.
Can I tell you the truth?
The picture is an after-thought.
I don’t think I even notice the focus half the time, and truthfully, I don’t think it’s important.
I just want to find a way to see the magnolia, so that I can find out
what shape it is making inside of me.
the precarious root is latin for prayer –
obtained by entreaty
at the pleasure of another.
i fit my life inside this word
unwittingly suiting my description to
“precarity”
a term which
tells my tale so completely,
absorbs the yearning invocation,
relieves me of the burden
answered at last.
I want something different. If this is what I have to give, then there is nothing left but to unfold. And, unabashed, consume the space that shapes itself around beauty that has always been there.
She said:
Daffydowndillies
and I said, Oh yes, I will make some for your
Loves.
And she said:
Just like Angelwings
and I said, Oh, Love,
I see what you mean.
For professional reasons – and I am really not making this up – it’s become necessary for me to get my hands dirty on Pinterest. It’s a mixed blessing. I have a suspicion that the more actively we reinforce our role as onlookers, flagging and highlighting images others make and promote, the more we blunt the edge of our own unique voice. But beauty can also make us hungry to create, and that is a good thing.
One thing I discovered on Pinterest is that, amidst the iterations of billowing butterflies and seraphic faces, my pictures would be the only pictures like mine. Another’s vision of blooming dogwoods and violets can inspire me to look for my own, but only I can find this particular garden hiding in the clouds.
what is beautiful remains 