stormwatch

Tonight I will open the doors
and the windows, invite
the moon, pull in the stars.
The wind will come like a river
bearing a thousand petals.

Bring the snow in the folds
of your coat. Let it swirl and drift,
obscure the boundaries of my heart.
In this way I will learn to love
the long grey shadows of winter.

treasures!

My dear friend, mermaid sister and wonderful poet, Ava, sent me treasures! Oh, delight! She sent a beautiful sea-blue chaplet and a fabulous photo! What a perfect gift! These are true treasures sent from the heart. Thank you, my friend. I treaure you.
http://www.xanga.com/avajsouth

No, this is not my dacha. I am far from the Volga and any hint of snow. It was nearly 80 degress here today. Sometimes I actually love Texas. The sunset was fantastic as I drove home from McKinney. Christmas shopping is nearly done. This is a good day in December.

Late September in the Urals

I send these greetings to you
from so far away. I imagine folding myself
into this envelope. I have become so thin
it is nearly possible. I walk every day
into the edge of the forest, where the light begins
to change. It frightens me, but I go
deep enough to see the stand of larches
that remind me of Ekaterinburg
and you, of course.

I recall the breeze that made the leaves tremble
like your hands that first afternoon.
Already war whispered in your ear,
my rival from the start.
I kissed you there in stippled daylight.
I did not care that we were bold.
I saw your eyes as windows
open to a cloudless sky.
When your hair fell across your forehead,
a curtain of silvered silk, I was lost.
I saw then there was no retreat.

Now I fight my own skirmishes.
My enemies are small, but many.
The dying leaves that spin
and land at my feet tell me
winter waits. Every moment
that bleeds into the earth
takes me further from your embrace.

Today my hands grow cold
and shadows cross my path
in long dark rows that echo
the bars that hold you.
Still I go to see the larches
and fight, once more, the demons
of miles and hours that strive
to imprison my heart and yours
in a impenetrable tower of forgetting.

Without music, life would be a mistake. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000000ENF?tag=wksuradio&link_code=sp1&camp=2025&dev-t=D8R4VVNZH2YHO

t'is the season

...and dance by the light of the moon.

Ah, Bedford Falls. Now there's a place to spend Christmas.

Christmas reminds me...

... that I love Robert Goulet.

Is there anything more glorious than 70 degree weather in mid-December? I think not. Ahhh... well, perhaps~ St. John trumps a warm winter in north Texas, I must admit. Still, this is a pretty amazing day. I'll take what I can get.

in December

This year the geese have flown
so low I‘ve seen the thick shafts
of pewter on the undersides
of their wide strong wings.
I envy their instinct,
their destination clear and constant,
imagine an existence free of decisions,
a life on the wing-
predictable and finite,
with one song-
beautiful and wild.

The clouds look like snow,
grey sacks slung low in the weary sky.
My fingers ache in warning.
I keep them busy,
fill them with my own certainties,
the tasks that define me,
the instincts that guide my steps.

I stand on the margin of winter,
my back to the wind.
There are no more geese overhead,

no flakes of first snow.
Only a few late leaves flutter down.
I catch the brightest one,
press it to my heart.

tis the season

Ok, technically last night's dinner was not a holiday event, but a party this close to Christmas still qualifies as such. Terry's birthday celebration was fun and I survived Paul's Porterhouse, aka: beef heaven. Terry looks damn good for 50, poor fellow.

Tonight more festivities... & another chance to wear my new, smokin' hot black shoes!

Still colder than Admiral Perry's outpost. Damn winter!

silly me...

What was I thinking? Tibet, when it is so obviously Nepal where I live. It is so frigging cold! I am sooooo trying not to hate winter, but with little success. Ah, screw it- I'm venturing out. Everest calls. Where's that damned sherpa?

I actually worked my arse off today at my job... What's that about? Then, of course, home to the real job. It is too cold to move. 18 or some such absurd temperature tonight. Damn! Am I in Tibet? I am so glad I don't have to work tomorrow. The Square is a morgue on cold days. I need a hot toddy... whatever the #*$@# that is.

The stars are indeed bright tonight deep in the heart of Texas. A final look at the night sky is an incomparable nightcap. It is all I can do to lasso my heart when the stars pull at it so. Stars and words... gifts without measure.

Lines For Winter ~by Mark Strand

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself --
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

oh, joy...

My trunk show went very well! And best of all, it is done!!!!! I feel absolutely liberated!