I hear darkness loitering on my front step. The scuttling of leaves down a dim breezeway. I feel its exacting eyes peering in through the cracks in my drapes. My contentedness dampened slightly by its looming presence. The hairs on my arm stand up. It’s near, and it’s waiting for an opportunity of vulnerability to let itself in. But what goes on inside my hallowed … Continue reading Hallowed ground

I buy all of my books and garments secondhand. I want my stories to have stories to tell and my shoes to already have miles in them. By the time they make it to me, my dresses have been on journeys and my books have already seen tears. I’m not precious about anything in life except life itself. I don’t need something to be new, … Continue reading Secondhand seasons

Stellar nurseries, a place once empty and still. But one day, the conditions were just right. Borne out of the darkness, suddenly stars. These perfect little conduits for wishes. These pinpricks we content ourselves to gaze at. We’ll drive miles, to a place where the conditions are just right, to see them in all their glory. Beings of stardust ourselves, our whole vessel is a … Continue reading Stardust to stardust

When I die, I hope the crepe myrtle weeps, and spills its petals upon the ground in the brilliant way it litters the world each Spring. I hope the wind kicks them up, like a despondent child at fallen leaves, and whirls them about in fantastic little cyclones. I hope that the rain falls warm through the midafternoon sun, and coats the exposed shoulders of … Continue reading May the crepe myrtles weep

The gentle tickle of windbound hairs grazing my peach fuzzed ear. That first smell of warm honeysuckle when Spring comes to thaw winter’s tyranny. Golden hour through the leaves of a thousand creek-lined trees. The full body warmth of a hostile red wine takeover in the extremities on a disapproving and cold autumn evening. Little sparks that ignite as the universe rubs up against itself. … Continue reading Little lights

Things will feel right when they are. It’s true of all things. The pear is not soft and sumptuous until ripe and the rain lily won’t bloom in a drought. Good things aren’t meant to be forced. Explorers have learned for too long that the visage of an oasis in the desert is often a delusion of madness and not a reason to press on.  … Continue reading In season

This borrowed breath of mine, so momentary. This borrowed Earth I walk, easily resowed. This big, big world I walk in full saturation, but a stroke in a bigger picture. I have never needed to be important, but still I wonder: what note will this borrowed breath add to a chorus of sounds already so drenched in opacity? I don’t mind being small or meek. … Continue reading But a borrower

You entirely miss the substance of life when you’re only looking through the holes. When you gaze upon a beautiful piece of lace, do you see the pattern that the silk creates or do you stare absently at where the silk is missing? Do you judge a masterpiece solely by the stretches of cornflower sky or do you let it enrich the landscape as a … Continue reading Caught in the voids

How comically delicate is the tether of the human. Feeble against even the simplest jostling. Easily frayed, frequently strained. How woefully asunder the hinges are that we cling to. Broken apart day after day and reattached bunglingly. It happens so often we rarely have the time to source better parts. So we content ourselves to walk through the day, willing shotty parts to see us … Continue reading Short leashes

You have to sit still to capture something. The universe is, at its simplest, a coalition of serendipitous moments. If you linger just longer than you have to, oftentimes you witness the magic that most of us bustle past. Get out of the city, lay in a hammock, experience the butterfly migration as it occurs around you. Oftentimes we find ourselves in moments, experienced so … Continue reading The coalition of serendipitous moments