Sunday Walk at Dusk

I walk back from the asphalt of the school playground

where I picked up a piece of wood

in the shape of a tree thought

blown from above in the wind

of  two nights ago.

I walk along the sidewalk home thinking

someone might mistake this branch for a gun

in the headlight glare.

so I carry it loosely swinging by two fingers

pointing the delicate web of lichen into the headlight

to reflect pale green above the gray silver bark.

maybe they see me and think

about the darkness that I am not.

maybe they only see me vaguely with no comprehension

simply a blank silhouette against the dark shadow trees

and the sky holding the last of the day’s blue around the edges of

oncoming clouds.

Maybe they see me and think.

 

 

 

I don’t do enough walking at night. It is strange how it makes me feel younger, a little adventurous, but not in danger.  My mind opens up in different ways when I walk in the dark. I become much less a visual creature and stretch out more with my thoughts, trusting my feet to fall right.

Before my walk I was feeling a bit harassed by thoughts of things I wanted to get done before my weekend comes to a close. Now I feel calmly ready to get what I can done. And I will let tomorrow take care of itself.

Tree Shadow Curtain Sunrise

The Owl Came Calling

In the night and early morning hours, sometimes just before dawn, I have heard the owl’s gentle call as it hunts on silent wings. A few days ago we got to add a visual image to the audio. The owl perched on our awning for a couple of hours before dusk, letting us get very close. Every once in a while it would clack its beak at us if we got too close. Then as soon as the sun went behind the trees it carefully preened its feathers, running its short beak over the long tail feathers, lifting up its body feathers like a skirt to reveal the unexpected long legs covered in furlike white down, almost like fluffy tights. Its whole image like some old monkish woman in a shawl, patient and ancient. And suddenly it stretched out silent wings and glided away into the shadows over the neighbors roof.

I looked at some pictures and found out that it is a barred owl. At first we thought it a young great grey, which people had sighted in the neighborhood, that had wandered away from its parents, and which I thought I had been hearing. But I think it more likely I had heard this one.

A Poem on Intentional Mowing

Flower Islands

White dots

Blue spots

Bright yellow stars

Pink  globes the size of hamster eggs

float

In tangled rafts

on the calm surface

of the newly cut lawn.

This is poem #1 of the 101 in a 1001 days, only 100 to go.

101 in 1001

Self-Experiment #?

I have been inspired by fellow blogger  Three World Chant to create a list of 101 things I will accomplish in 1001 days. I have posted the list on a separate page here. I have been so inspired I started immediately working on the list before it was even finished.

Yesterday I walked a mile and a half at a place I had never been before and took 16 pictures some of which are below. I also got my bike out and started fixing it up and today I got a helmet. I put my car on Craigslist and wrote in my journal. I am still diligently reading 2666 by Robert Bolano which is so intreaguing in a very wierd way, but, also, so very long. I am half way through it. I hope I can finish before it is due at the library. I have another week off to tackle other things on the list. I worked on my novel for 5 hours the other day and will do more tonight. I am off now to clean out my moldy car so I can have people look at it on Sunday. So much time and so little to do. Wait strike that. Reverse it. Pictures from the sculpture garden tucked away in the middle of  a foresty part of a park in the middle of a nice little neighborhood in the middle of our charming little city.