Friday, November 14, 2014

Friday Calm

And again the words are slow to come.

The silence of the vanished birds, the moss-cool stones, is all there is to listen to or say. 

Two by two the hours slip away.

There is calm in the slippage.  A certain calm in the absence of words and birdsong; no need just now to wonder where and why they've gone—that needless seeking.

image:  Sparrow


  1. i have been not in Italy... but in the midst of the old malady that allows little time in the computer chair.
    the dangerous blood clot once again. such an ugly term.
    but i've caught up now with my favorite writer of the senses.
    and if you're silent... then it's an eloquent silence.
    you're back home. and it's cold here now.
    but all the sun from your trip is in your heart... surely warming it from within.
    rest in the silence. and when you come out in the fullness of your best hedonistic love of life again...
    PUBLISH this whole blog. yes! into one exquisite coffee table book. for us weary armchair travelers who live in your senses.
    love. xo good friend.

  2. Oh, dear Tammy, I'm so very very sad to hear that you've been sick again. Please, please be well. And thank you for coming to visit, and for your encouragement. Love to you too.