I would, if I could, eat soup everyday especially now when uncertainty has my stomach twisted, tied in knots it’s comfort food, yes soup will do, it’s my go to, when I am blue, a simple broth, potatoes, beans, rice or noodles, something green, spinach, kale seasoned well, hot steaming, slurpilicious, can you tell, that soup will do when I’m distressed, better than my first instinct, clearly under great duress, to grab for something salty, sweet, too much of a good thing until I’m stuffed, uncomfortable, just ill I should have had some soup instead but worry makes me lose my head and so I cook a lot these days, soup, of course, for times like these
I didn’t realize in autumn when the leaves of summer were dancing on the wind, that this would be her last fall and winter, her limbs left exposed to bear the bitter cold, I wonder now if she had already left before the first frost, for I had only known her a few years, when her once lush raiment had already thinned… I never rested in her shade on hot, sunny summer days never saw her in full bloom, memories of nested fledglings taking first flights, learning to bend with the fiercest of tempests were things I could only imagine, her bones exposed now against a beautiful sea of green, even now the crows and mourning doves perch on her brittle limbs surveying the landscape and me… how is it possible to miss someone you never truly knew, and yet I do how I wish I had known you old tree, in the spring…
~kat
Another bittersweet day. We need to call a tree service to take this ash tree down. Her fragile condition threatens our vehicles and home should a strong wind overtake her. I’ve watched her slow decline since we moved here a few years ago. I knew it was just a matter of time. But I was not ready for it to be this year. She was a special tree. Recently I noticed this heart-shape hollowed out in the bark on her trunk…a parting goodbye I imagine and a gentle acknowledgement of my admiration for her. It’s as if she showed me her heart.
I am learning as I age the art of letting go…and I am grateful for the grace of these lessons. I think it may actually be a blessing. When my time comes I hope to slip away as gently as my friend, the ash tree.
even if I wanted to forget they would remind me rhythmic purrs growing loud, louder under my bed tiny toe pads tapping my arm a stealth attack, razor sharp teeth penetrating the blanket and my feet…OUCH! recoiling, my body contracting into a fetal position, please go away but they are relentless, my brood, a diva dog, two white cat tyrants and a Schrödinger cat, jet black, who travels incognito through life… even when he’s not there, it’s safe to assume he is…there…somewhere all this because it’s morning time to take the pup out for the two p’s, time, good god mom! for breakfast… time to get my opposable thumbs moving… you don’t want us starving (you’ve heard of the old lady with a house full of cats that ate her face when she died…don’t tempt us!) no rest for the weary, breakfast is served just in time to watch the sun rise… another day, another morning… work, feed the brood, sleep, repeat
~kat
Oh, I protest…but I wouldn’t change a thing. I love living with wild souls in my home. Inside and outside I am surrounded by pure, beating hearts, some who depend on me entirely for their survival. And for my servitude they reward me with unconditional love and devotion. Today’s poem and glimmer are one in the same. The imp above is our kitty, Frankie. She’s very demanding but also very affectionate. She and her furry, feathered and scaled siblings give me a reason to get up each morning. how wonderful is that?! 🥰
Ordinary rituals We do rituals all the time even if we don’t recognize them. We gather for things like birthday parties, baby showers, bachelorette parties, funerals, etc. Even these small mindfulness practices are a kind of ritual. For today’s draft, think of a traditional or habitual activity and write a poem about it. / Recommended reading: “Blessing the Baby” by Diannely Antigua
we arrive here naked, unencumbered only to be quickly swaddled in cloth, socks and booties forced on our feet, sleepers and onesies, snaps, buttons, and safety pins; try as we might to break free, to wiggle our bare toes, to feel the breeze on our skin, eventually we comply with humanity’s dress code and spend a lifetime covering ourselves in fashion (a term that makes it sound fancy) as if the magnificent skin inhabited by our soul was somehow inferior, shameful even, best hidden… but those of us fortunate enough to live to be gray, with skin soft and thinning, who’ve grown comfortable as our souls begin to spill out, some of us, I admit I am one, relish losing the shoes and the clothes, and the shame, planting our bare feet in tall grass, pressing our toes into the cool earth as the breeze kisses our skin under the glow of the moon and stars, finally free to be as nature intended… naked as the day we were born
~kat
Today’s glimmer…new tetras for the fish tank. This year’s long winter was hard on so many of us. We found ourselves without power several times. One time though when the temperatures were particularly frigid, we were without power for days…long enough to lose what was in our refrigerator, no water, no way to leave because we were iced in. We survived by wearing layers and huddling under blankets, but most of our poor little fish didn’t make it. We were unable warm the aquarium water as the temperatures inside dropped day by day. I missed them. Miraculously two hearty souls had survived along with our big precious and catfish, but they looked so lonely. This past weekend we added some friends. The world feels restored, if only under my roof! Meet the fishes who brighten my day every day!
Break the mold. Get out of the rut. Think outside the box. Write a poem about a new way of doing something. / Recommended reading: “For When We Greet Each Other” by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
flowers in pots on the window ledge of a second floor brownstone, and me knocking on a creaky aluminum screen door, invited inside, to eat cookies with orange juice in a jelly jar my mother would eventually come to fetch me… they were so nice, the neighbors even though I was an escape artist even though I picked a flower from their window ledge garden to give to my mother (I would learn that taking things that didn’t belong to me was bad, and made people sad that day…) I would learn about forgiveness too the next time I escaped, welcomed once again, with cookies and orange juice in a jelly jar, and my neighbor smiling at me from across a linoleum laminated table with an metal rim as we waited for my mother to come fetch me again… a seemingly sweet memory that years later disturbs me as I wonder how did I, a toddler of two or three, have such freedom to wander…
Terrible jokes aside, ages and aging make great poetry fodder. Write a poem about a specific year in your life. It can be an age that has passed and is memorable or one that’s to come that you may be dreading or hope to embrace. / Recommended reading: “At Twenty” by Heidi Seaborn and “Two Months Before My 65th Birthday” by David James
Today’s glimmer…discovering a new bug!
I have photos of bugs and plants and fungi as well as animals that wander the woods surrounding my house in the foothills. I love learning new things. Every day there is something to discover. Today it was a bug. I have never seen a bug that looks like this bug. So of course I snapped a photo of it so I could research it later…
Introducing a Roundneck Sexton Beetle. These are “burying beetles”. Nocturnal, the male searches for a small dead animal and once found, secretes a pheromone to attract a female. Once the female arrives the two of them begin the process of burying the carcass. They will remove the fur or feathers and then cover the bare skin with an enzyme that delays decomposition. The carcass is then formed into ball with a nesting chamber hollowed out in the middle. This is where the female will lay her eggs. Once the larvae hatch she rounds the brood up inside the carcass and then unlike other burying beetles both the male and female will eat from the carcass and then regurgitate the food for the young. This little bug is truly gruesome and fascinating. Now you know!
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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