cside

[cside]

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things”

[cside]

[cside]

And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.

Antonio Machado, ‘Last Night As I Was Sleeping’

[a-delightful-moment]

Angelica Rosengren

[cside]

[caislunar]

[cside]

I stared at tiny children with envy and a sense of loss. They still had cozy, comfortable days ahead of them. I was plummeting into the dark void of adulthood against my will. I stared into the faces of fretful, workaholic parents, thinking condescendingly, You have traveled too far from the source. Can’t you remember what it felt like to be fresh, waking up to the world, discovering new surprises every day? Adulthood is cluttered and pathetic. I will never forget. …If I wrote things down, I had a better chance of saving them.

Naomi Shihab Nye

[cside]

[misterdoor-deactivated20180423]

[ana-elisabeta]

[laceondiyne]

[hannahkemp-deactivated20240409]

Washington June 2017

[nayyirahwaheed-deactivated20180]

poem. from nejma. by nayyirah waheed.

[rosesinaglass]

[thesteward]

[cside]

I walked into a store. The ordinariness of what I saw repelled me: people putting onions into baskets, squeezing melons, hoisting gallons of milk, clerks ringing up sales. "How are you today?" "Have a good day now." How could everybody be going about their ordinary business when these were no longer ordinary times? I went to my office and along the way saw the secretaries at their desks and the students all in their seats and the teachers all at their podiums. Do you not know that he slipped and fell and that we sealed him in a box and covered it with dirt and that he can't get out?

Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff

[cuntented]

[awelltraveledwoman]

Late afternoon coffee dates. Extra shot.