Thursday, March 15

shell poem and quietness

shell poem



I have the fullness which comes from a satisfying day of cleaning out those crooked corners into which things fall and become invisible over the years. The house feels so good now. More to do tomorrow.


We planted spinach seeds this week.


A single white candle burns on the table. The cat snores.


Head-down, banjo moves my belly like a whale in an ocean swell.






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