Tuesday, October 19


Hot mulled cider and a warm dog on the couch at the end of the day. Dreaming about morning and wishing for sunshine. Reading chewy books slowly.

I copy out mountains, rivers, clouds.
I take my pen from my pocket. I note down
a bird in its rising
or a spider in its little silkworks.
Nothing else crosses my mind.

~ pablo neruda

I believe I shall take my book to the bath.