that's mrs. mediocrity to you

It was a month of snow angels and outdoor picnics, getting things done and doing absolutely nothing, taking care of business and escaping into books. Red was the flavor, and quiet was the color. It was a month of letting life flow at its own pace, I didn’t fight any of it, never once did I swim against the current, I just let it carry me wherever it was headed. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that, and it was good.

January was a month of settling in, to life at 50, to life in 2013, to life in a world we have yet to catch up with.

Soon, I suppose, busy will be stopping by for a visit, she never likes to stay away for long. I’ll make her some tea and we’ll sit for a chat and she’ll mention that she’s planning to stay for a spell. I won’t be surprised or upset, I will simply say yes and turn away to bake her some cookies. Snickerdoodles, in fact. Because you can’t say snickerdoodles without smiling, and besides, they are delicious.

But I can’t help but wish that January could stay just a little bit longer, so I could sit here and stare out this window at the birds, at all the wonder, at the dancing snowflakes that have just started to fall from the sky, despite the fact that just yesterday, the temperature peaked at 65.

I hear February tapping on the glass, too short to be seen, but just tall enough to reach a bony finger up and make her presence known. She likes to be all dark in her grey robes and bitter nights, but it’s hard to take someone so small very seriously. Still, I will sit with her tomorrow, build her a fire and bring her some flowers, just because she is here.

And I won’t tell her how much I miss January, for it would never do to make her jealous.

She has quite the temper, that one, don’t be fooled by the hearts and the chocolates.

But don’t worry, either, for she is no match for March and its promises of flowers.

snow crunches and gives me away
as i stalk the howl of this january moon
a barefoot shivering gypsy
in a white gown meant for summer
snapping in the pearlesque breeze

the seasons have forgotten
how to be themselves

your forest is home
to a bird i cannot name

but i am not afraid
to stand here in the dark

not afraid to burrow under trees
and tunnel through silvery shadow

i already have my own scars
glinting white in the light
of fullness

when my back is turned
you trace them with your cold
clay shiver fingers
while i hold my breath
and play spectral

i know how much
you need
this map

.

..

.

Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night

.

listen to

the music

of your

mind

.

.

why are we so afraid of empty?

we fill our homes with too much stuff

our bellies with too much food

our minds with too much information

{stop}

give me a clean sheet

an unfilled bowl

a barren cave to sleep in

.

i want space

wide  •  open  •  hollow

.

nothing

absolutely nothing

to distract me

.

from life

.

.

i hold nothing in my fingers but time

you laugh and say

impossible

but in your heart

you hear whispers of minutes

.

in winter

the sun is empty

i paint gold leaf onto snowbanks

and we watch

another day melt

.

yesterday i extracted

a sliver of silence from my palm

when i held it up to the light

i saw a fuzzy grey snapshot

of midnight

.

.

..

.

Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night

.

let’s see

where we

end up

.

and why would it be, really
we have cool blues for that,
dark midnights and
periwinkle fields to float upon

but it’s winter
give me some vermilion
a scarf of scarlet, or crimson,
lipstick stain on landscape grey

singing loud and unafraid
nevermind who’s looking,
or who knows you’ve been here,
never let them turn away

you steal them in the silver haze of twilight
fighting hard to keep from being swallowed
by dark forest and beckoning fern

snatching words and phrases by the tail
as you fly from branch to broken
in a black ribbon melody of midnight

an owl in the pines smiles at your attempts
to scribble scrabble puzzle out each line
with dissonance and hollow heart echoes

into a ransom note of bittersweet cacophony
hoping only that one star will listen
all the while knowing it will come to rest

in the cached out core of a long dead oak
with shiny bits of treasure you collect at dawn
and offer up as sacrifice to a beacon

that will never shine the light of beauty
on your coal-flavored eye or add the flair
of accessory to your brittle silhouette

but no matter no matter
you mourn you caw
you fly

.

being in the right place

at the right time

to capture

a perfect landing

.

So many books, so little time. Recently a friend on twitter, the lovely uncletypewriter, threw out a question asking us to name our three all-time favorite books.

After much discussion, we decided it was too hard to pick just three, and we came up with the idea of listing 50. Which kind of ties in to this being the year that I am 50. So we decided to start a little blog meme, she went first, and now here I am. I have to say, even choosing 50 was hard, and meant that I left out some really great books.

Many of these made me weep. Some of them made me laugh. Still others struck me with their originality. All of them touched me deeply in one way or another. And I wouldn’t say they are in any particular order. I loved them all equally, like children.

1. The Moon and Sixpence ~ W. Somerset Maugham
2. The Book Thief ~ Markus Zusak
3. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle ~ David Wroblewski
4. Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant ~ Anne Tyler
5. Of Human Bondage ~ W. Somerset Maugham
6. The Lovely Bones ~ Alice Sebold
7. Landscape Painted with Tea ~ Milorad Pavic
8. She’s Come Undone ~ Wally Lamb
9. The Sheltering Sky ~ Paul Bowles
10. Love Warps the Mind a Little ~ John Defresne
11. A Thousand Acres ~ Jane Smiley
12. See Under: Love ~ David Grossman
13. House of Leaves ~ Mark Z. Danielewski
14. Winter’s Tale ~ Mark Helprin
15. The Secret Garden ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett
16. Ethan Frome ~ Edith Wharton
17. Bag of Bones ~ Stephen King
18. Close Quarters ~ Larry Heinemann
19. The Fault in Our Stars ~ John Greene
20. Dictionary of the Khazars ~ Milorad Pavic
21. Their Eyes Were Watching God ~ Zora Neale Hurston
22. The Last Temptation of Christ ~ Nikos Kazantzakis
23. The Shipping News ~ Annie Proulx
24. Kitchen ~ Banana Yoshimoto
25. The Mermaid’s Chair ~ Sue Monk Kidd
26. The Night Circus ~ Erin Morgenstern
27. A Dog’s Purpose ~ W. Bruce Cameron
28. The Art of Racing in the Rain ~ Garth Stein
29. Love in the Time of Cholera ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez
30. Nickel Mountain ~ John Gardner
31. Song of Solomon ~ Toni Morrison
32. Of Mice and Men ~ John Steinbeck
33. The Sound and the Fury ~ William Faulkner
34. The World I Made for Her ~ Thomas Moran
35. Affliction ~ Russell Banks
36. Stones from the River ~ Ursula Hegi
37. Little House in the Big Woods ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder
38. September ~ Rosamunde Pilcher
39. The Catcher in the Rye ~ J. D. Salinger
40. Mother Night ~ Kurt Vonnegut
41. Anywhere But Here ~ Mona Simpson
42. The Hours ~ Michael Cunningham
43. Mists of Avalon ~ Marion Zimmer Bradley
44. Like Water for Chocolate ~ Laura Esquivel
45. Madame Bovary ~ Gustave Flaubert
46. Anna Karenina ~ Leo Tolstoy
47. Ironweed William Kennedy
48. Atonement ~ Ian McEwan
49. The Corrections ~ Jonathan Franzen
50. The Temple of My Familiar ~ Alice Walker

So there you have it.

A few others I read recently that could have made it onto this list: Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger, The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey, The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman, Nightwoods by Charles Frazier, Sea Change by Jeremy Page. Only time will tell if they will bump any of those above off this list.

Okay, so now it’s your turn. Would love to see your list if you feel so inclined… come back and leave me a link to your post if you do!