Hi Claire... This is an interesting approach to blogging. Do you write all your posts in the comments? :-) I've been writing my small stones on my blogspot blog. http://positivekismet.blogspot.com/2013/01/musings-trust.html Eliz
Hi Elizabeth! As you can see, I am not much of a blogger and this is not much of a blog. I just thought I would keep all of my small stones in one post. I am really enjoying this challenge. Are you? I checked out your blogs and love the combination of the beautiful photos and the quotes and your comments... a real blog! I enjoy your voice!
Day blushes herself awake -- her pastel glow spreading above the airport runway up and over the hill our barren yard the park down to the harbor to find her reflection ringed with ships visiting from the world tugs tanks of heating oil the gestating bridge
Claire -- it's almost the end of the month -- and I am just figuring out how to get to everyone's blog from the daily posts (double clicking - duh!!) I am a wordpress blogger, and I have not figured the ins and out of Blogger. I've enjoyed your daily stone offerings. Thank you for sharing.
A ball of light slides earthward.
ReplyDeleteHidden, the moon wanes.
Awake past midnight --
Must be a new year.
Soft pillow
ReplyDeleteSoft sheets
Soft blanket
Hard to get out of bed
White sun
ReplyDeleteMoonless night
Remind us we dwell
In gray
Rhododendron leaves hang
ReplyDeletelike green fangs
this frigid morning
Our spines
ReplyDeletethe center poles
of our meditation tents
In the womb of night a pixel of light
ReplyDeleteHalf-frog pose
ReplyDeleteon algae-green sheets
breathing into my pale belly
34 warm degrees:
ReplyDeleteRhododendron leaves bask
Open and long as surfboards
Over my head in darkness
ReplyDeleteA honking V of geese aims itself
Toward the space between
Orion's belt and sword.
Sorrow woke me
ReplyDeletebefore the alarm
Early morning thunder:
ReplyDeleteTrash pickup day.
Last night:
ReplyDeleteSnow-eating fog
This morning:
Grass, mud
Another winter morning
ReplyDeleteVeils herself with
A scarf of fog.
Morning fog
ReplyDeleteMourning fog
Newtown.
Each of her fingers wanders
ReplyDeleteIn its own direction
Never again to meet
Over buttons, wooden spoons,
Or fit between
Her husband's fingers.
Hi Claire... This is an interesting approach to blogging. Do you write all your posts in the comments? :-)
ReplyDeleteI've been writing my small stones on my blogspot blog.
http://positivekismet.blogspot.com/2013/01/musings-trust.html
Eliz
Hi Elizabeth! As you can see, I am not much of a blogger and this is not much of a blog. I just thought I would keep all of my small stones in one post. I am really enjoying this challenge. Are you? I checked out your blogs and love the combination of the beautiful photos and the quotes and your comments... a real blog! I enjoy your voice!
DeleteTY Claire! I'm new to the small stones and tend to say too much but I'm enjoying it. :-)
DeleteJANUARY IS LIKE THAT
ReplyDeleteFour days
Of snow-eating fog
On the fifth day:
Snow
The texture of night...
ReplyDeleteSun lights the spines of books, waking their colors: scarlet chartreuse cyan and cream
ReplyDeleteSo evocative! :) I like this one a lot. :)
DeleteThanks so much, Jade!!!
DeleteI love your stones... each one is beautifully different. :-)
ReplyDeleteEliz
Oyster shells on park bench in moonlight: gulls' dinner dishes.
ReplyDeleteFrigid, the wind flows in torrents
ReplyDeleteAbout the house tonight.
I float, placid, on my heating pad.
on an assyrian relief
ReplyDeletethe genie's muscled calf
etched so finely
i believe i could put my hand through
alabaster
The clamor of bridges being built in the night
ReplyDeleteI like the idea of bridges built at night... so true and like life and our effort in it. :-)
ReplyDeleteEliz
A rash of cold days
ReplyDeleteForces us inside
Ourselves.
8 degrees --
ReplyDeleteAnd the rhododendron leaves
Hang like green straws.
Rainbow
ReplyDeletehula-hooping around
a fading sun
Day blushes herself awake --
ReplyDeleteher pastel glow spreading
above the airport runway
up and over the hill
our barren yard the park
down to the harbor
to find her reflection
ringed with ships visiting
from the world
tugs tanks of heating oil
the gestating bridge
light softens
ReplyDeletewind freshens
as if to hurry the day
away
Pale morning
ReplyDeleteand sodden
Discussion
in the rhododendron
Streams of bird-words in the trees this morning
ReplyDeletenone of them sound like spring
Claire -- it's almost the end of the month -- and I am just figuring out how to get to everyone's blog from the daily posts (double clicking - duh!!) I am a wordpress blogger, and I have not figured the ins and out of Blogger. I've enjoyed your daily stone offerings. Thank you for sharing.
DeleteThank you so much! I have enjoyed your stones as well! In fact, I loved the whole process! Maybe I will continue. Will you?
DeleteThe Food Terminal
ReplyDeleteThis morning
Is a bowl of soup:
Wood smoke
Spiced meat
Stirred into gas fumes
From the highway
And fog.
Today
ReplyDeletethat same bowl
emptied of
every shred
of fog and scent
dried by
insistent winds
and covered by
another bowl:
white dumplings
floating
in blue broth
The midwinter sun
ReplyDeleteIs generous today
Sharing a touch
Of its brilliance
With every ivy leaf
Face to dark sky
ReplyDeletehundreds of cold kisses
from snowflake lips.
This morning I caught the twiggy forsythia dreaming of yellow...
ReplyDeleteSnow surprise...
ReplyDeleteIt's February.
Newborn day yawns:
ReplyDeletethe rumble of dump-trucks
(Winter Storn Nemo makes its way toward us)
ReplyDelete8:39 am: Our yard a veiled threat...
Rows of houses
ReplyDeleteTuck themselves in
For approaching night,
Pull snowdrifts closer.
Sleep -- will you be my valentine tonight?
ReplyDeleteI leaned out the window
ReplyDeleteto smell the new snow
And roused a bird from its rest
Startled
Its wings & my heart
Beat inside a nest
Of darkness and star.
Today's white sun
ReplyDeletetransparent, cloudy
brings to mind
the Valley of the Kings
and the moon-shaped
hand-hewn
alabaster jar
I left there...
our ice-moat melts
ReplyDeletewashes away
leaves us open
to rumors of mongols
springing
through the woods
winter surrenders
ReplyDeleterumbles through the downspout
Yesterday’s squirrel –
ReplyDeleteOne paw gripping branch
As the opposite foot
Scratched the winter
From his coat, frantic
To begin again, clean.
Six words on Holy Saturday:
ReplyDeleteLight attempts to penetrate my tomb.
In the early
ReplyDeletebefore all senses wake
there is sight:
blink
sun butters the curtains
blink
a cardinal flits to a branch
blink
the cardinal lifts off
blink
his song from the cherry