conveyance
four notes
one.
Today I descended these stairs. When I got to the bottom, I turned back around and climbed slowly to the top again, stopping to photograph a flight of birds undulating across the sky from open air to the eaves of a seven-story apartment building and back again.
two.
Today I worked, listened, cried, meditated, stretched, ate and walked.
I explored. Made some notes about stuff.
I wrote, and I sang five-note scales in a rooftop garden.
three.
Life calls us up sometimes—demands the offering up of a depth of wisdom or humor or patience we don’t yet know we possess until it’s time to share it out.
I decided today that life demands the ungrasping too, like something young and somewhat new floated by the wind from the safety of an outstretched hand, carried in the current with newly-strong wings that you just know will bear, bank, glide…
four.
Seat 20E, not my favorite but the best I could do given that the plane takes off tomorrow.
I will land in the supper hour.
I will drive to my mother’s sister.
I will love, and I will listen.