Saturday night is reaching full swing, but right now it’s time to check in with the lights of Friday… the brightest of the week. Well at least in the eyes of Ashley, Cindy & I!
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The dog is running between frisbee
and hand, the dark so round
and quiet one can hear
the whisper of rust.
And in the bay waves whinny
white as baby’s spit, as old men’s
hair, leaving you in the wake of a woman
who’s swept past on her way home:
a watermark of absence, a clinging hush.
GN
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CK
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This winter the crows avoided me.
They are now back on the power line
and look like they would enjoy cutting
off the horizon. I love them
up there scraping angled beaks against
electricity I imagine
being constantly converted
unaware of any endings.
AM
bay waves whinny
white as baby’s spit…how awesome is that…
Believe me Claudia, it was pretty awesome! The weather is just astonishingly good at the moment!!!
I love Cindy’s photo!
Me too!
So enjoyed the line about the ‘whisper of rust”…that’s quiet.
Sure is quiet Charles… was just so peaceful watching the waves…
The woman sweeping past in the first melds into the photo melds into the electric energy in the last – all connected
Bluebee is right. I love when each piece moves into the next, as they do this week.