I’ve been absent from this space.
I’m not sure why.
Many times thoughts came to my mind and I paused..
thinking maybe I should write something
or just sat
birds at the feeders
cats at play
not thinking in words
Too bad writing requires words
headed to work
prone on my mat
silenced phone buzzing
footsteps in the street
train whistle nearing
seagulls in the distance
The sky was dramatic yesterday
so I went for a walk in one of my favorite places
to look at its beauty above
and everything between and beneath
and yes, Marcia, I did find the nest:
I slowed my bike but thought “whatever,” and went right through the puddle.
Such is life.
I often see puddles too late to adjust and go around;
Trusting my balance and
fenders to keep me dry,
I just peddle on through to the sidewalk on the other side.
The prompt is to describe a tree house hideaway, but for me, my special spot was a closet.
When we moved into the house where I did most of my growing up, my bedroom had a closet about 5 feet square. The first thing I did when that room became mine was make the closet a special hiding place. With my clothes hung above, I made the floor underneath cozy with pillows and blankets and my stuffed animals. I didn’t spend a lot of time in there, but just knowing I could made it special.
One branch of blossoms
dips low to the water’s edge
and deer come nibbling.