(This should have posted yesterday, of course, but I was feeling moonstruck—)
What comes to me on this spring solstice (and full moon) day?
. A new Mary Oliver poem, "Leaves and Blossoms along the Way"
(The point is, you're you, and that's for keeps. —words I've been waiting to hear
. a recipe for lamb burgers with grilled shallots and goat cheese
. a picture of a friend in an intriguing northern England garden; countryside I almost know
. one of the tiny paprika-size-and-colored bugs I know from childhood (windowsills, Santa Fe: box elder bugs, maybe? And why am I associating them with Latin classes and the sunny patio behind our classroom one May morning?)
. a little ringing of the treebell / birdbell with its paper tail
. the pages of writing I thought I'd lost, and a confusion of others
. a good curry, under the trees
. bright red Adirondack chairs for sitting in to edit
. the mirrors in the garden—a multiplication of garden like a reflecting pool, but holding mysteries and almost memories (that sultry square somewhere in Mexico where a train stopped for an hour one night)
image: She Who Is, Woman of the Wild