9/15

A quiet day spent with my mother and her friend

Ordinary chores, simple meal of steamers and corn together,

A treasured day.

9/14

The light, the air here brightens our steps,

Clear, welcoming, as we walk, talk, take pleasure in

Time spent together.

9/13

Morning lights breakfast with a cherished heart

Evening dinner savory for a dear friend, sisters two, for me

An only daughter.

9/12

It was a beautiful day, a day for anything:

For gratefulness, for wonder, for a while

For loving you.

9/11

Friends, family can give advice, share opinions,

Lend a shoulder but with my lover

I could really....

Now in midst of crisis, this seeming catatonia

Is not surrender, is not doing nothing, but is time.

Let's me think.

Faith may be a grain of mustard, may move mountains,

But time allows for thought, for faith to contemplate horizons

Before I move.

9/10

Into a new start out of cold storage stride

Two lovely beings surrounded in warmth, in sweet

Strength of relations.

This day plenty contrasts with withered,

left to learn, to live, left with little

Ties of kin

Sometimes long journeys accent

How off track, how little ground

One has gained

9/9

Miss you as ever I have, mourning all we had,

Admitting the tremors through the topography

Of my life

Requires accepting a revolution of the soul

Beyond the bounty that measured our time

To territory isolated.

Our landscape will not change back, ever;

And history, by its nature, must change,

Has no choice.

9/8

Rise early enough to enjoy an hour or two

Company and conversation before leaving,

Last minute errands.

9/7

A friend and sunset arrive together,

Each possessed of exquisite light, we

Paint the evening's radiance.

9/6

On this quiet day, a kindness done for myself is taking time,

Time for space to be by myself, unfilled of busyness, of traveling,

Even, of people.

Not easy, missing the company my Dear gave; lost those days

Of being engaged neatly, of times seeing little of each 'til late, of

being near - enough.

So, how will just being me,

Who was once well loved, come

To be enough?

9/5

The soft movement of riding a good horse still is sweet,

As is reading the wisdom from the Sabbath's book,

Both give comfort.

9/4

These days I try to keep the horizon a bit closer.

Just keeping well the next few hours is hard, so keeping

In mind, minutes.

9/3

A day spent honing an endeavor you so helped,

Immersed in the particulars, in painting, in writing,

In being alone.

9/2

Horses move through the paddocks, rustling along

Snorting softly under a rainy night sky

amid quiet winds.

Kept in place by threats of adverse weather, this time

Of learning a life beyond vulnerable to grief, to loneliness

to a life stable.

This hurricane calmed to gentle rains allows a day

Steadying this soul, deep scarred by a searing season

Of unforgiving storms.

9/1

From Some Can Whistle by Larry McMurty:

The rules of happiness are as strict as the rules of sorrow;

Indeed, perhaps more strict. The two states have different densities.

I've come to think.

The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings -

Crowded, active, thick - urban,

I would almost say.

But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks

And no boundaries; sorrows horizons are vague and

Its demands few.

Jeanie and I had not become strangers;

It was just that she lived in the city and

I lived on the plain.