it's in the air

when a faint whisper of what i want leaves my lips
i know, with enough time it will come.

tip toes

i found myself on the tip of my toes my arms extended around you, your shoulders happiness, your hands witness to  my existence my movement subtle as it may have seemed had split the mountain of what was then and what is now. my lips a pen that told a story that till that very moment was lost.

.

.

dear tea party please explain

how you plan on cutting billions wait and billions of dollars
just tell us how we will listen, make it specific
HAVE A PLAN DO SHARE IT
YOU want the job show me your plan, your resume, your successes just don't take me to your leader
she is a babbling idiot!

Yeah I thought so!

wood

UMMMMM let see

SO you wanna burn the Koran UMMMM!
let see if someone who did not look like you, or talk like you
decided to burn say a bible no let's make it a truck load would those
people be called terrorist, specially if they decided to say video it as well?

so i am guessing that once you finish burning the Koran and you find yourself in the bathroom
washing all the ashes from you face and you look in the mirror you will do the right thing
and call the police, fbi, cia on the person staring back at you,

you know because your a preacher and all!

ps- media definitely fuelling this fire!

wednesday air

the clouds are that blue gray i love so much. they are moving like floating leaves on a still lake. i am sitting by the table on the porch, with my coffee and toast, honey not jam this morning. the dogs are nestled in the grass, grace would like to be at my feet in case crumbs should make it to the floor and sophie as she often does is staring up past the trees to the sky.

there has been no sleep for a eight days now, not even the two that usually come to me in the early morning. there is a lot to blame, but now i believe the suspect to be my mattress. i would happily lie on a hammock if i only had one. the bush i disliked is almost gone thanks to oar ant tony the goats, some how they are leaving my flower beds alone i am glad because i love how they have come out. the leaves on the trees along with the wind make a noise almost like rain or a tap being turned on. I love how it the wind brushes up on my skin and how wearing jeans and a cardigan is no longer ridiculous for the weather.

i can still taste the honey on my lips along time after my toast is finished and to think that the honey came from a bee that was buzzing around here is sweeter than you think!

and now i must take out a pen and write thank you notes for the shelter.

what is it

what is it he said to me
i do not know
as i thought to myself if i only knew
what is it
i have no idea
i guess no one is whistling anymore
or dancing

what is it
nothing
well
nothing i can put into words
i am not good with words
or house work
or love making

the last day of august

i have just let tolstoy out of his paddock, he is free to roam where ever he chooses on the farm, i am nervous. i have for the very first time this summer put on a strapless dress and i am okay about it, even though my arms are redicously large i still manage to feel feminine. i have filled a glass with ice, ginger ale and orange juice and pulled a new book from my shelves to read : the grapes of wrath" by steinbeck. Moments before all this i walked to the pond to check on the ducks and found five huge turkey vultures resting, i clapped my hands and they flew away both magnificent and frightening all at once. the birds they have not stopped singing and someone must have told the cardinals of my love for red for i have counted at least a dozen. I once did a design for a flower show of a flock of red cardinals flying over head as my way of saying this end of the world as we know it, i hope this not the case today. i have wanted september to come, yet i think it more the coolness of the fall that i am waiting for. but for today i will remain in the moment and let the moisture of the humid air rest on my bare arms as i turn the page...

bright star

it is as if the rain knew tears would come
the drops pour unto the pastures as if they were desperate to hide
to seep beneath it all
my heart i fear will remain permantely pinched
no doubt that something from my conscious mind will undo it
but only for a while
my breath now cut off sends the air to my head
that is now pounding along side my undone heart
i lay myself under a cover made of feathers
and wish my sleep heavy.

n

*what i felt after bright star

let go

holding on. that is what i do.
i hold on to my loft because, well i do not know why
i hold on to my book because i do not want it to end
i hold on to king henry the eighth
i hold on to a handkerchief
i hold on to a broken shoe
i hold on and i know longer want too
but i do

or

today you held my hand on several occasions you knew
i need you to know

cheese cloth

i feel

a nap

perhaps it was the smell of the pine needles that lifted my spirits high. reading my book each page was so heavy in thought but
then in wolfboro the best nap i have ever had took place. i dreamt of my horse tolstoy, dreamt
of love, most of all i slept and when i woke the mix of pine needles and you
there awakened every thing that had been sleeping.

aware

i am not sure why it is done. i just do it. regret of course
followed by anger. than i learn who i am and i except.

but i do not like her. she is not in control even though
you think so. we are not. i am not. i am just foolish stuck between
naive and a dreamer.

ache

it was just like that....and it ached.

today i asked a big question the one that keeps me up at night

no answer, just a lump in my throat, butterflies in my belly
fear no i think mostly fear...

wish me well

wish me well for now
i asked in a slow whisper to the nights air
for now will you wish me well
i said as my fingers touched the drops of rain
for now will you wish me well
as my shoes hit the cobblestones in the alley way
i know where my home is and
i will be coming home soon
my love

my outside in

it is deep forests, quiet rivers. it is the birds that sing. the dew that still sits on leaves from this morning rains. it is the way they run up the hill and how i love kissing their cheeks. it is the mix of the early evenings breeze and shubert. they way the sun begins to set it's rays hitting everything just the right way. it is the me in all these things that i want to confide in. no one else. with exception perhaps of the moon, ....

sore feet & blueberries

me on the front porch. sore feet. the breeze keeps me safe from the sun.
toast with marmalade, blueberries and espresso. a book, finally a good book to read.
can i do it, be still enough to relax. for nothing is without discomfort, guilt. i do wish for a cold wet passing rain.
i would stand underneath it. erase, wash away. soak. the breeze did i mention it, it is lovely and not quiet.

bird

move along dear friend. push, pull but do not tug.
i shall become a bird, you will find me by your window.
i will fly when you come near but sing when you are calm.
are you calm, are you still.

whistling

there is something about whistling that speaks to me. i can not whistle and even when i say
i can what i really am saying is i inhale and make a funny sound. When i hear you whistle, for just a split of a second i freeze, nervous stillness but then i relax and listen and even ask for more. more whistling please that is what i need more whistling, more of you whisling.

mirror and memories

the morning came and i drove through thick fog then a clearing. there comes a time in the spring when the color of the buds on the tree resembles the fall. a time when the past is mirrored in the present. my mind traveled back as well
clouds moved fast- i was moving fast in and out of memories like tip toes to water.

eyes at night.

my eyes grow heavy yet it is barely night. tears have not come as i thought they might.
life has changed many times over, sharp egdes and hard turns. mixed emotion have me confused
i wonder if i am swiming or drowning. sounds come out but words are not understood. my eyes grow
heavy, heavy and now i say goodnight.

the last station

last evening i went to the cinema with k. and a friend. we went to see the last station a story of Tolstoy's last days. as we sat in the theater and the screen turned dark the words of tolstoy emerged, i had to hold back my tears not to frighten the people around me for the movie had barely begun. i have been in love with tolstoy forever now, whether it has been something that he has written or what was written about him. i understand the struggle within him, yet i am unable to use my own words to explain how much he moves me.

ten minutes into the movie a young man who has been hired to be his secretary sits on the couch that tolsoy was born on and every member before and after of his family. tolstoy asks the young man about his own work, his family- when the man burst into tears overjoyed and in disbelief of tolstoy kindness towards him a "mere nobody". i knew exactly what that man was feeling for it was what i had felt a few minutes before, in awe that i was reading his words and seeing his life played out before me.

a finger grip to a dream

the rain has fallen for three days straight. i have had so many thoughts come and then get washed away.
i almost did the unthinkable, well the unthinkable for me- i almost let a dream fall. i was ready to take an eraser
to my soul, carve it out the dream i carried for so long in my heart. well you see the dream laid dormant, i felt like i no longer walked towards it so i was going to let it go, then i realized that i had confused the stillness of everyday life with not wanting it anymore. i want it so much and i feel as if i should apologize to this dream for it has been a companion since i was very young i, nadia was going to make it disappear without any trace of it ever being there. then like something out of a movie an email came that said this is the way to hold on to your dream- no,it said this is away to carry out your dream.

now the snow dances out my window and a red cardinal calls me out to play

melancholy

melancholy no longer sits on my skin but has set into my flesh.
i have said goodbye to many times. my arms have grown tired
as they wait with open arms to welcome someone new. i have said goodbye too many times
my arms are tired, my throat is raw from singing children's songs. i have opened the treasure chest filled with
little clothes and shoes for little toes one too many times.

melancholy has passed my skin and now my flesh and has found away into my soul..

why is that you have forsaken me this...why

glow

a throat ache and a muffled head, i find myself curled up on the chaise my
face towards the sun. all these years so many more hours than anyone and yet i have never napped
my eyes feel heavy and the sun is caressing my headache and as my eyes close gently, i am in heaven
for the glow in my mind surely must come close.

the tea party -really! sarah palin???

tiny sandwiches for tiny minds!

i love my husband
i love hearing him laugh
i love my husband

in the snow

i feel so alive when snow covers the ground and flakes fall and get caught in my hat i can easily lay on the ground and play out childhood memories. I can wear my black cashmere coat and tall boots and fancy gloves and dream of paris, but for today i will put my wool sweater and play fetch with sophie and grace.

thoughts

i can feel the temperature change. the warm air that blew around here just yesterday is gone. even with the sun piercing through my bones i already feel the cold. i have had all sort of thoughts sometimes it is as if they are not me, mine, but a person i lhave trouble understanding. todays thoughts were hard, i though about how i wish i could paint how even though i sing to myself, i could never really sing to anyone else, i thought about how i know how to make love but not a baby
i though about such things. i feel cold, i have felt cold all winter long. i have felt the coldness of the man that owns the farm, coldness from racist politicians and realtors. the sun watches me as i write this for it makes the keys glow, can you come in i ask it, can you come closer.

the wind

the air is warm, the wind blows with such strength, the rain allows you to stay dry only for a minute, seconds really.
i travel with it at least my heart does and perhaps my mind..

tangerines

behind me i hear the sound of the faucet drip, drip , drip
i tried to fix it but it still drips. on the table is a bowl tangerines, maybe
there is twenty or just twelve. through the window the grass is now visible
and green makes you believe change is coming. the sun comes out from behind grey sheets and tiny snow flakes that will probably never reach the ground dance. i am sitting wanting to know more as i reach for the dial of the radio.

snowflake and sound

i sit at my chair by the window but i am far, far away. the music that played transported me to a place and time that is not here and not now. every once a while i come back and stare out the window as large snowflakes fall from the sky and reach the bottom. was that their destination all along i wonder, is that where the snow flake really wants to go. just like that i am not in my kitchen but on the other side. the only thing i can feel is my lips they are cracked as i float in the land of memories. up above my body against the grey clouds looking down i see that the snow is dancing, it hears it too, the melody and the tone of the voice that sings me home.

today i look out

the way the sun hits the chair
the way the house is filled with your scent, my dear tree
the way your snow pants keep me warm and how funny your boots look on my feet
the bright light that comes from the snow glistening snow
the sounds they all make when i open the barn door, good morning dear folks
the shivers i get as the wind finds an opening through the house, burrr
the way i promise myself to get some sleep, but all the things that keep me awake
the icicles that are pointing down, that remind me of edward scissor hands
the music that plays and has my hips sway

meltdown

i am having a meltdown. a mixture of anxiety and fear. i am trying to be myself through this holiday season.
see we do not spend hours in line at the mall anymore but understand the ones that do. we gather things from the forest to decorate our home with. we bookmark recipes that we must try and have chats by the fire about what we hope christmas would be. we dream of both sides of the family joining us here for a day at the farm with sleigh rides, good food, warm fire and maybe if weather allows it snow angels and men. not everyone feels that such things are enough- but why i wonder, why can't we just have moments uncluttered by things, ones that may just out live the things, why can't we just give the gift that can not be bought!(cliche maybe)

oh maybe i melting down because i have not been outside in three hours( to long for me) i should go now clear my head.

* update, the walk did the world of good, nature is magical she reminds of how lucky i am everyday.

moments

sometimes my heart beats faster than usual when my eyes deceive me and i see you in my in box sometimes tears mix with my smiling lips when i hear the piano played so wonderfully.
sometimes life is just right, so where it has to be that i feel happy, young, like a girl learning it all again. sometimes i steal moments of bliss , afternoons, nights as i put those thoughts to rest i sometimes think my eyelids have been kissed!

dear mike

i have been whispering this to you everyday. it is all i think about. i am so sorry for the discomfort i have caused. it is not tolsoy fault. you see we did not do it right, i did not listen to my gut but instead to people with big egos who did not do it the right way but instead they did it their way. I know i am taking care of you but i know you liked it the way it was and all though it will never be exactly the same it will be good again very soon.

you see tolstoy was in a line and was going to be slaughtered. he was in line to be a piece of meat on someones plate for someone in a foreign land, ones that are not foreign to me canada and japan two places i have loved dearly but i can not understand at this time. so you see he was in line being sold to the highest bidder "the meat guy" but he was saved because someone stopped it put their hand in their pocket pulled out a few dollars and saved him. he is here now, and i know it was shocking but it was not his fault, and i have been fighting to keep him here, he is loving and gentle but scared like you. it was not his fault but mine for not speaking up. mike everyday, three times a day i find you and clarabelle you come to me with so much love even though you have been banned by the pecking order (tolstoy) you come to me and i see how grateful you are and it touches me so.

at dusk today the air was so calm and warm. the sky was doing it's thing and you came to me and gave more love that i could have ever imagine possible from an animal (and most humans) and i cried all the way back to the house how is it that i have disrubt your life and yet you still take care of me...

dark

if only my heart would purge some of what took place. even writing now i fear that it will hear my relief and quickly inhale me back into what seemed as the darkest of hours( two weeks really). i will say no more yes i still fear it, still do not believe it is over. i am a deer standing still in the headlights and making a run for it in the dark.

how is it that we are giving sarah palin
even more than the fifteen minutes of fame she has already stolen??

maybe it's just me..

cold, the sun comes and i am warmed

falling rain

i heard it faintly in the wind, the way you used say my name. have you whispered it lately. i shall believe not, for once i was called fickle i protested not, even though it hurt the very core of me when you said it for at that moment you knew me not. I now understand the little pieces that come to me when-you spoke to me it was as if you were speaking to yourself, for dear man you are fickle, my mistake is that there was no face to my love just one that was made out trees, falling rain and birds that sang beautifully, i have not lost those things, they exist always in me, for me, never ending is the chapter that i wrote with my pen and invisible ink..

a pot

as i write i stare unto the pastures lined with trees of every color. at times the wind plays making the leaves look like falling snow flakes. meringues bake in the oven and the rays of sun are piercing through the kitchen window. so why am i feeling like i might boil over

calling out

it is the rain that brings me home to that place deep within me. it is easy to think of the past with a mixture of sadness, it only take a minute to stir emotions that for a long time laid dormant. it is strange when everything outside slowly begins to die and ready itself for the stillness of winter, my heart decides to beat harder as if calling out to me, i am here, i am here, i am here.

sleep

so my eyes barely close. my eyelashes never travel down. i am sleepy.
ask me how long it has been and i would say something like eternity.

quiet night

this morning you were loud, you stole the moment from me. when i am walking our long drive way in the darkest of nights, be kind enough to keep the light on for me. we have been in our new home for two weeks now, how is it that you do not know what door to lock does it not feel like home to you.., i am cranky- perhaps because you stole the quiet moment under the stars...or perhaps because you will not be coming home tonight, again.

loving this

change

the changes have come quickly as if i am looking through the window of a passing train.
so much has changed. i am afraid that it is not here to stay. please let it stay.

crime and punishment

i have been reading crime and punishement. it is dark and cold and everynight i am left with the same
feeling. do i have to finish it? how did i make through it once before? why is he so familiar to me. oh
how i hate a great bad, bad book trully do i have to finish it?

a long stare

he was afraid to call out her name . he stood at the gate as she picked up the falling branches. he remembered everything about her now and he begun to shake he put his hand on the gate to steady himself. she noticed him their and slowly walked further away from where he was. she whispered his name and followed it with never again. there was someone new now, he could never come close to the kindness of this man. he had not been replaced but forgotten as he had hoped to be and if that was not the case every action proved other wise. she was surprised by her strength and how all the work had not failed her now she even paused to remember one moment of bliss but nothing came she had exchanged every happy memory for ten of the bad ones she had done a good job infact she had secretly thanked him for his cowardliness and for her own child stupidity. he knew now that she had seen him, he was sure that she would walk to him but soon he realized that it was best if he never came to her again something he had failed over and over again never being able to put her first and even though she had changed and did not even look the same for she had aged in such a short period of time covered her thin frame with more flesh then had been before.. he took one last stare but he cold not see her as she was but as she had been that day through the window. she did not look back again as she walked into the house.