I come to the evening Looking for solace in watching The sun set in the blaze Of skies darkening. Looking for solace in watching The ensuing drama of color Of skies darkening, An attempt to keep life’s order. The ensuing drama of color, Allowing beauty to convey, An attempt to keep life’s order. But for part of each day Allowing beauty to convey, The sun set in the blaze. But for part of each day I come to the evening.
Walked the slanting shadowed beach Chatting with a friend, then Home to sunset. Geese squabble over head, Wings whirring, silhouettes against Rose darkening skies I listen to the splash of river landings, The cacophony of meetings, seated On your bench. This has been a difficult week And our dogs are getting old, I remind myself The day is coming closer I know, for hard decisions, meanwhile Sky is amazing.
A simple answer I sought: how unrequited must love be, to be considered caught in such hurt it drags the psyche undeservedly distraught? Is it when with each moment I yearn, pathetically through the day, a gnawing, niggling burn, pain of parting in everyway, a wounded heart I should spurn? Or, past the pathetic, culpable bliss of wallowing in the reprimand, would it count that what I miss Is more the moment than the man More the idea, than the kiss?
So this morning I asks the powers that be For a little equilibrium. The 8 ball says: 'Try again later'. ----- Then, dogs, barking furiously, excitedly as only When someone is actually at the door. After all everyone Comes expressly to see them. Two men, dress shirts, ties. I slide by dogs, out door. what can I Do for you? You do live way out! Yes. what can I Do for you. You know, everyone at times in their lives Need comfort. Where do you look? We know of.... Get to the point. I'm busy. ....Ah, um, oh! Pulls a watchtower out of a folder. Nope, not today. ---- Ask a different question: Are the gods amused? Without a doubt.
For too long, corn stands rose too tall, too enclosing, smalling my surroundings into soft fears. Only, now the embrace of their tall shadows give a calm comfort as might the arms of a new lover. So, standing under deepening aqua skies, by the quiet rustle of this phalanx of green limbed sentinels, I accept the affection I am given, friends, others, hold it close as a gift and bid it welcome.
It's four in the morning, the moon is long gone. Wrapped in an old robe, I’m waiting for meteors. They streak over in pauses, like slow uneven breathing. A few lone lights steady along. Who flies at this hour? A good breeze rustles high in corn stalks, much taller than you. Was a time I believed only such a strong wind could breath air back into my lungs, as if I'd forgotten how. That’s not really true. The milky way shimmers, As a cat nudges my ankles, A soft ghostly touch, I do not assume it is so. And anticipating these showers, That’s not really what woke me
The western skies are working On a strong storm this night, clouds purple, Winds pick up. And, I raise a glass to you, my Dear, on This evening, knowing the day is soon I'll be older Than ever you were. But not now. Now, Geese above, dogs underfoot, and dusk colors the Soul slightly melancholy. And another writer's words linger: just Come back, you've been gone long enough, Just come back. And another voice sings of the speed Of the sound of loneliness and always, ever, I miss you.
Spring rides in on winter's shoulders, The mistletoe still showing on the Fingers of trees, While cherry blossoms subtly scent Evening skies and greenery emerges From corn stubble. On high, over a glowing horizon, post Equinox stars shine in a deepening palette of Varied dark blues.
At times you encircled me In your arms, close, kissing Me deeply in, And I, I would soften gladly, breathing You in. But, by sunrise you were Moving away, back To your life, away, away from mine. Any sweet moments given, taken, Just not enough.
Last night I dreamt of arms That were not yours, were not Anyone's I know. Dreamt of someone standing as much Expectant as welcoming, and as such It did appeal. As if where he stood was more A portal to where I wish to be, Moving with equilibrium.
To watch the sun set drawing Past dusk into gloaming, snifter of Balvenie in hand And two goldens afoot, to hear Geese chatter in the far marshes, While skies deepen Past ultramarine til stars above Quicken over my small farm, Is simply magical.
As sunset nears, its best to be in our yard, Our dogs near, a glass of wine in hand. A good day.
Our dog, will be with you, I think, By the next snows. May he get one last chance to make Doggy snow angels Before becoming one. The now, the moment Is all he knows. 6:07 Sunset falls where I love Best, for now.
A lift today from liam neeson's words: "Everyone says love hurts, but that Is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these things confused With love, but in reality love is The only thing In this world that covers up all Pain and makes someone Feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing In this world that Does not hurt".
Two steps forward, one step back, Or the other way around, depends On the day. Today was a step forward, back Into welcoming the hours for All they encompass And all they give, for the moments Of service, to those of rest, All are good.
My eyes are healing well. I have a few more weeks Of odd sight, Before being fitted for new glasses. I wander the days, lost in perspectives. None quite right For what I need to see, not visually, Not emotionally. Both needing time To reconsider right.
Allowed myself to be distracted, In many ways. Allowed another to sidetrack me, Bushwhack me with thoughts Of caring and affection where There is none But my own wistfulness wish For then, loosing needing being On my own.
This morning friends leave early. Yes, I am saddened but let them Go, knowing, feeling The connection of shared time. The day goes hushed with the aftermath Of leave taking. In the ensuing quiet, am left considering Where paths have been moved by love, And where not.
Friends slept, and I bundled In the turtle blanket Did trundle out To watch the stars swirl high, twirling Through moonless skies, brilliant bits Of diamond light. . Dozing below these bright sharp notes, The cold seeps deeply through, until, I wake amazed.
For the past sixty years I have been nearsighted, it is All I know. Now the rest of my days I’ll be longsighted, can see In mid flight The wing marks of a hawk, But not the weave of my canvas Without visual help.
Spent these few days prepping for snow, What I can, as my eye limits me now. Indeed even more Than not having you here as for so long I have had to learn to adjust to doing As just me I have, y’know, accepted those parameters Are still close enough to notice the weight Of anything extra.
Down and back, two long days driving, Then hauling home a friends new trailer. It is fun, As was the excursion to a new place, Into a new adventure. It is cozy and I want one. Then it's just the go-go’s and I Heading down now familiar roads In first snow.
A day cool enough for flannel jeans And a walk along tom’s cove To the point Air clear and cool, tide low enough for Easy walking, wending our way where Ponies often trod. As the sun starts its descent And afternoon wanes to dusk I am both Happy for the company of friends And saddened when time comes Seeing them go.
Seven sixes ago twas a wednesday, Cold and clear. Life has cycled again To another mid-week Day of crystalline air. Standing then in The moment when afternoon light decides to Slip towards dusk, The first time living in that lucid air where You no longer were, left me terrifyingly, alone. Yet on days, Like that devastating day and like this day, The same astonishing, overwhelming clarity Suffuses the heavens, Infuses my eyes to my soul, where you Yet touch, with soft promise, with hope and I walk on.
A walk with the go-go’s on Sandy Neck Along cape cod bay, backwash through The pebbled strand. Years ago I woke each morn to that lovely sound. The go-go’s now frolic in the wave hems. I make A decision finally, To just let go and to live my own life, at last. I pick among stones, leaving one for the Kindness Rock Project
The Studio at Line's End Farm is where I paint and try to find some joy again, and some equilibrium, not simple these days. One weblog records thoughts, ideas, methods and mixtures, palettes, observations, actually anything that intrigues me concerning my painting and working in the studio. Another observes only the horse in paintings that I find influential. The last are done for my sanity. All are my opinion only, open to other suggestions.