In the night I am
listening
harbouring back to the days of
babies and toddlers
never quite fully asleep\u2026 just in case
instead now, I am listening for sounds of
distress
as our beloved, gentle giant of a dog
seems to be aging quite
rapidly
back legs failing to
cooperate
and my heart aches for him
and
us
this morning first thing I am
gratitude
and always, always
love
for glorious sunshine
a most bright and beautiful day
at coffee, I watch the birds
and glittering bits of sunshine on snow
as it is dusted down from laden branches
sparkled streams of light
and
shadow
also, again this morning I am
completely enraptured by
connection,
by tenderness and
kinship
by\u2026 a beautiful eye,
an understanding ear
and by a
not always completely comfortable
cruise
through this thing
of
life<\/p>\n\n\n\n
as well, as you may have guessed
by a book<\/p>\n\n\n\n
where here I will begin with a confession again I am silently stunned by loving books as I do, an attempt of delayed gratification I do have a strong belief that often books find this morning, dear friend (if I have been able to keep you thus far)<\/em> on Thursday this week, I am scheduled for In the night I amlisteningharbouring back to the days ofbabies and toddlersnever quite fully asleep\u2026 just in caseinstead now, I am listening for sounds ofdistressas our beloved, gentle giant of a dogseems to be aging quiterapidlyback legs failing to cooperateand…
as this morning, I
have marked, underlined and written
in said book (*gasp!)<\/em>
I don\u2019t think I have ever, ever done this before
but this morning, knowing full well
the quantity of words I have stored in the files
of my brain
will in no way be readily available for
retrieval
(to which I will always be blaming capacity \u2013
rather than age)
<\/em>this morning, I clasp my hand over my mouth
as something so familiar in the writing
springs forth from my chest
and small pools of tears gather
in my eyes<\/p>\n\n\n\n
familiarity
different in many ways, but also
so very much in common
with this beautiful, beautiful writer
a writer, whose book, first acquired
Rumi and The Red Handbag<\/strong>
I carry with me always
in a purse
and another The Flower Can Always be Changing<\/strong>
rests in the backpack I take to work
both lovingly weathered
immensely cherished
books that do not sit up on a shelf to be admired
but rather
companions of everyday life<\/p>\n\n\n\n
many times I get something I\u2019ve really been wanting to read
but because I am most gluttonous with books
I rarely start it, right away
I place it on my \u2018to be read\u2019 pile
and try to keep it in mind<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I suppose<\/p>\n\n\n\n
you
at precisely the right time
and Apples On A Windowsill
by Shawna Lemay<\/strong>
is
absolutely
just that<\/p>\n\n\n\n
comes with worry
with gratitude, and always with
love
but also if you\u2019ll allow me
it comes
with a bit of a plea\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
a much needed
surgery
on my sinuses, I know I’ve mentioned this
but, as it turns out
I am quite scared
even though for me this counts as number eleven
in surgeries for various things over my years
maybe at this point, it is age or
possibly the simple fact that this concerns
ones ability to
breathe (easier)<\/em>
might I ask, if you had a thought
to surrounding one in love and kindness
I
would most assuredly
appreciate receiving
consideration
possibly tagging on
a great, great deal of love
for our dear old dog
and, while you’re at it
for life
itself ((\u2665))\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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