Unwound, Free
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
One version or the other of my life perpetually here, or near to here, and I can't recall a July like this—air like streamers of silk against the skin, and the high light of dusk, and a dawn that nudges in. The birds sing like they haven't before, and there are more of them, and there is a generosity about the hours; they make room.
Take it, I tell myself. Take it; it is yours.
I hurry through nothing. I sit and I read. I write a sentence, and then I close my eyes and dream. When I wake, the sky is still there, and the red bird that has hatched a dance on the canopy edge above my head waits for me.
That, in any case, was this day, just lived.
10 comments:
Wonderful. Lovely.
The weather has been a running thread with everyone I meet lately. We are all in awe of this soft summer and discuss it as if on eggshells. Can we break it by marveling too loudly or too much?
One day, I'd like to do that.
Absolutely lovely. Reminds me of my parent's house, on the south Washington coast, it's warm, but not too. And green, with lots of birds. I could sit there all day and just dream.
Oh, and I just got a Kindle for my birthday, and found out your books are available for it! yea! I will be reading them soon! :)
Sounds dreamy! Lovely post.
Aaah - you weaver of word magic. How simply beautiful, Beth.
very, very nice...........
(and my word verification is sucks. how did that happen??)
It's a perfect day. Typically, the 10 best days of the year are spread throughout the year, a few in Spring, Summer and Fall. This year they seem to be clustered together. Hope 20 is the new 10...I want way more than 10 days like this.
What a glorious word picture.
You are so wise to stretch and squeeze each day and take all the beauty and joy you can from it.
I need to get better at that - I will learn from you.
XO
A.
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