Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas!

to do:

make pigs in a blanket
deck the halls
eat, drink, be merry
find the pickle

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Pileated Woodpecker

This big guy was in our yard this morning, devouring the fir snag. So festive with his gallant red mohawk.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

flicker call

last night we cut paper snowflakes and hung them over the door. i wore my favorite blue dress. snow falling now. my voice is gone. today i will drink coffee and make christmas presents, watch the snow fall on the firs outside, my paper christmas tree on the wall untouched. i have a paper life, i cut myself, outside my real life moves like a robert frost poem. tomorrow i will wake early and walk to the bus station, speak to children with my gravelly voice. i never sound older than i do now, paper thin.

Early December in Croton-on-Hudson

by Louise Gl├╝ck

Spiked sun. The Hudson’s
Whittled down by ice.
I hear the bone dice
Of blown gravel clicking. Bone-
pale, the recent snow
Fastens like fur to the river.
Standstill. We were leaving to deliver
Christmas presents when the tire blew
Last year. Above the dead valves pines pared
Down by a storm stood, limbs bared . . .
I want you.


by James Wright

The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
There they are, the moons young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.