Thursday, March 7, 2013

How Change Happens


An hour past, the Spring
released cold, hard
drops in a cascade of
half snow, half
water from a dotted cloud
line.

Two hours past, the
whitened air seemed
alive, brushing past
sleeping trees still coated
in frost icicles.

Three hours past was dark,
day gestation, the end of moon.
Now, a sky is shredding
into sun. I see, change
accumulates, then appears.
at

Thoughts

  In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their ...

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     Excavation  They are out in the street, digging up the cement  with huge metal claws. Beneath is the dried dirt, full of pebbles. Below tha...
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    A harsh wind fists the forests’ wall of leaves. The shaken green smell expands my chest, cracking me open to air. Thunder sounds, vibr...
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