Happy Thanksgiving everybody! Have a good day with good food, and a parade, and a turkey and…uh…maybe a dog? Or kids? Or cold weather? And…oh yeah! Family.
Yesterday I did a thing about what it means to be thankful for something and how, as we grow up, that thankfulness shifts and evolves (or should anyway) into something that’s a bit more in line with the given definition–but today I just want to stop and say what I’m thankful for, because as much as I can talk about thankfulness, it doesn’t mean boo if I’m not actually speaking to anything. (more…)
There was a time in my life where my Christmas list was done in August, where the measurement of my end of the year enjoyment was based upon what I received and what was done for me, and music, lights, fall spirits and winter chills were ancillary, inconsequential, to the gifts to come. And while it isn’t Christmas yet (regardless of what the radio and Target says), if I were still a kid, it would be by now–it would have been since about three months ago. (more…)
I twiddle that twig we plucked from the tree line,
but I’d sew it on again, the leaves I plucked too,
if the forest would give you back to me.
Do you remember the trees? Remember the birds?
Oh, you loved their song. You so sweetly sang it back to them
when you were alone–but I could hear you as if you were
next to me.
And they miss you; they miss your song–
one bird sits beside me. He sits on that one branch,
his hands in his pockets–silent, searching–
So my girlfriend recently has been underway building up a photography blog (which is wonderful and you should check it out: here), and amidst all of the photoshoots and planning and editing and what not, she took the time to explain where the name for her blog came from, which in turn inspired me to do the same. (more…)
“I would like a large Muddy Tiger, but, this time, with no milk added to the espresso. Thanks.”
That’s how it started, with what would be an otherwise innocuous sentence leading off an exchange that was largely confrontational, all for a single reason: wanting to be right. (more…)
In the window
of the little toy shop
sits a space for
play with one toy
and drop it for another,
running here, jumping there–
but only the parents look at the
The mom and dad listen
to a yesterday’s whisper wrapped
around their tightly wound,
newly woven belt loops.
She sees her first doll,
worn and faded, and played with.
He sees his old army men,
the ones the dog got a hold of.
They stare at the nothing,
at the toys of their youth,
while the children
make noises behind them.