Thank you to Kat Myman for giving us this fun writing treat! Twittering Tales!
It’s been weeks since we’ve shared coffee, or in my case, tea. There’s been lots and lots of PG Tips during the past week!
What do coffee drinkers drink when they get sick? I did consider a cup of coffee yesterday just for the pick-me-up factor, but stuck with tea. Tea is my comfort food of beverages.
We heard on Facebook, as we skipped over all of those politically partisan memes and rants , that some folks might not mind me
stealing the spotlight writing another post. I took over volunteered because Ma Sascha looks stressed and who knows what she might write. I’m just hoping she has some hair remaining when she’s done. Continue reading
Elegy for the Dead Spirit
Every day she sang
at the top of her lungs
in an empty house
with floorboards creaking
roof whispering with ghosts
After midnight low flute tones
murmured, a fugue as if she knew
her hopes fandangoed with futility
“Canon in D,” “Morning Has Broken”
Her heart once so big, open
she’d make you smile with hers
Laughter so real, its own music
Gone, she took the sun imprudently
The rains come like tears
Wipe away your misery
She may phoenix yet.
And memories of southern beaches are like cerulean ocean fantasies, like the last vestiges of a dream you’re not certain is real.
It’s May, but though there have been hints of Spring, chill has yet to yield. Here I sit, listening to the patter of rain again and then the insistent chirping song of the mockingbird singing: “This too is beautiful; don’t overlook it for clichéd peace.”
The cardinal joins in as does the song sparrow and catbird.
The rain continues. My toes long to curl in July-heated sand. I long for the stress-clearing Atlantic waves, throbbing to shore. Yet voices tell me that there’s more: open your eyes, ears, heart to all that unfolds around you–the irises, the peonies, the clematis, the flocks of bird-migrants from the south. Even the rain’s rhythm relates a song. Life and beauty are all around you, even now. Feast in it.