"Time out of mind."  That phrase bubbles up as this morning's writing sloshes in my mind. I was writing about how, when the gold on the trees absorbs me, everything except the gold is...suspended, and I exist only as eyes...no, there's more. I exist as an uplifted--what to name it?--spirit, who is nothing but this seeing, this thrilled, very quiet, very excited but very subdued happiness.

Long black shadows on the increasingly juicy green lawn. The throw of magnolia petals on the grass. The world in its morning brightness lit up like a wonderful idea.

I'm very pleased with one of today's Quatrains--which is today's poem in the Poems section--because it catches something right.  Sometimes the words fall into place: I'm there as fully as I can be, which often summons the right words, the right rhythms.    

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Today's my birthday number--24. This always makes me pause, like a thorn that catches my shirt.

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I'm looking forward to some woodwork today: cutting the molding then mounting it around  the half-bath window. I painted it yesterday.  Getting it right by taking my time: this is my mantra. Then final touch-up painting and caulking.  I'm eager to begin. Let's see what happens.




 


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