not-quite Journaling, 19
is playing hooky (again):
my left arm is swollen, my right
shoulder blade is throbbing, too many nerves in my back are pinching, and the
constellation of itchy blotches that is my skin suggests my immune system is finding foes where there are
none and insisting on fighting them all.
is feeling stormy (again): my
car drowned, fluid filth pressured my garage door until it popped, and the whole place smells like some swamp creature’s soiled socks.
is a tiny seed: it can be planted in soul and soil, it grows in my lover’s
arms, it spreads through shared moments and random laughter and caring hearts (like
the delight hearts feel
when love smiles
and the inspiration:
8/15/2021: Yesterday was my Piano Man’s 52nd birthday. We (and more importantly he, being the birthday boy and all) had a perfect day. Today, when I was going through my phone in search of pictures of his birthday menu (Mexican omelet and Turkish coffee for breakfast, baby back ribs and tostones for dinner), I realized that I hadn’t taken any pictures of the food. But I did remember to capture his first-day-as-a-52-year-old smile (right after he told me how much he enjoyed his birthday fun). Like I said, we had a perfect day.
8/19/2021: I grew four sunflower plants this year. They came in the same bag and from the same grower. All the blooms look slightly different (and totally stunning).
9/7/2021: We went on a lovely walk… We saw wild life doing necessarily wild things. And all that talk about me ogling my Piano Man’s rear is pure calumny *cough* 👀
- for Poets and Storytellers United--Weekly Scribblings #86: Mining the Journals, where we’re asked to “create a poem or story from a journal entry (or several).” Also linked
to the Writers’ Pantry #88: The Season Turns.