I like beautiful things.
I bought a journal recently, with a blue cover and slightly yellowed, blank pages because I thought it beautiful. I bought it with a gift card because my penny-pinching self did not think that such an indulgence should put pressure on my personal funds. But now I am writing again. I am writing about my addictions, I am writing about bread, I am writing about dreams and ghost tours. I am writing. I am tracing my hand and drawing abstract surges of life. I am writing poetry that will be read after I am dead and some that will be posted on this blog. I am writing the alphabet in my best penmanship after writing a sloppy page filled with scribbles of ideas.
Into the wild.
The wild of the dream.
Lasso that dream to a hover
Just above the ground.
Let it pull practicality to its feet
And push doubt to its knees.
I have always loved to write. But now I know I love to write in something that is beautiful.x
Why hello autumn,
Fancy seeing you here at the end of summer.
Shall we play hide-and-seek
For the next few weeks?
I will cover my eyes-
the palms of my hands
and the pressure of my to-do list distracting me
as I count my way through September.
Then, one day,
I will open my eyes for a moment at a red light,
or a minute during a walk,
or whole hour during a run,
and find you.
The creep of the orange flame on the willow tree,
the slow burn of red in the cottonwood.
The flowers curling back into the earth who pushed them from her.
If only in our autumn,
when our hair grows white
and our legs grow brittle
we could curl back into the cool soft earth of our mothers.
But I digress.
After I have sought you out, autumn,
I will hide my eyes again and count to October.
When it has come you will not be playing hide-and-seek any more,
you will be playing tag and you will be “it”.
You will chase me with cool breezes up the toes of my sandals.
You will follow me into buildings with wet, sticky leaves.
You will catch me pulling my sweaters from the bottom drawer and compliment my extra layers.
What games we will play, you and I!
How often you catch me at the end of summer unaware and sunburnt.
What games do you play with the changing season?