space traveler

Has the journey ended? Has it just transformed...? To travel in ones own space, from house to yard to pasture, down to the mailbox, out to the chicken coop. Leaping from dirty coffee cup to dusty house plant, spanning the space from window ledge to table top to traverse between the crumbs of last nights dinner. Time, too, is relevant. The rythm of light and darkness, moon and star, sun crossing the sky (now so far to the south), seeds germinating, growing, setting seed, dying, the shift of birds clocking in to relieve the previous crew. A log burns, the eggnog goes sour, the frozen bowl of dog water thaws in the thin winter sun, its time to cut my bangs again.

surprise!

A new year, a new post, a year since the last.... A shift of focus, the great eye regains clarity and sharpens its stare. The winged heart settles to the ground, pecks and scratches, turns three circles, makes its nest, allows roots to set. A natural progression, but one never considered. Easier to believe the world is coming to its end than to believe in transience finding a home. A home. Home.
So, as life transitions so does my blog. The need to practice writing for others to read, not just the usual secrets I scrawl in books I keep hidden from you, is apparent. A present wrapped lovingly in paper, tied with ribbon, taken to the ledge and drop kicked, left on the lawn to disintegrate in the rain, to bleach in the sun, to be pawed open by a curious animal. Whatever. Its out there now.