connections

So many things happened this week. Many were very very good, and some were horrid. There were primary colors and drab skies and I wrote about colors and love and death. Isn't that what all poets write about? Life. Snow still covers most of the ground up here. Four horses graze in the field next door, their coats thick and fuzzy at this time of year. Makes me want to touch their necks and backs, feel the thick coats that somehow keep them warm in the deep freeze of mornings and nights.

Inedible berries and old marigolds persist in spite of the cold. They add a bit of color to this deep freeze month of January when all I can think about is when it will be over. Back east my family and friends are suffering from the cold much more than we are here as the afternoon sun actually makes me remove my hat and scarf when I walk the park paths. We are lucky to live in this beautiful landscape, but I admit it, I miss those back east. And they've all been calling and sending good wishes and energies to Ron who will have surgery in a week or so.

It feels good to have completed the manuscript that has been dogging me for a long time. Now all I have to do is try to focus again on the next one that's already half done. I'm into completing things. What a concept for me! This includes the two pairs of socks that I am working on. A third pair got sent off to its recipient and was a success. There's that kind of joy, too.

When it comes  back to teach you
or you come back to learn
how half alive you've been,
how your ignorance and arrogance
have kept you deprived --
when it comes back to you
or you yourself return,
joy is simple, unassuming.
     (excerpt from "Joy" by Thomas Centolella)