Tessellation

From a distance,

the pattern looks right.

Buckles go unnoticed;

rough edges smoothed over

with a Libra trowel.

Hate puzzles.

I take it apart, spread it,

shameless, for a good hard look;

see all sorts of things.

Slowly it comes together;

gaps stare expectant

in the scene like clouds.

Then you. 

End pieces tumble easy, snap,

fully interlock promises
and now.

tk/November 2014

Ronaldo Stainforth steps out of his black and white world... 

Join Magpie Tales creative writing group. 

The moon made me do it...

Every month around the new moon ... usually a day or two before ... or on the day of ... I find myself in a whirl of cleaning and organizing.  I know, a rare thing for this lazy Libra. This time it was weeding through a stack of 150 magazines, tearing out the stuff I wanted to save, and recycling the rest.  And for dessert, I sorted through my sewing kit ... got rid of that old green bias tape ... and put it in one of my vintage tackle boxes. I couldn't bear to take out the Cash's woven name labels I used to sew inside the children's clothes, so I kept them, just because.  They make me happy.

We are not afraid to look under the bed,

or to wash the sheets:

we know that life is messy.

We know that somebody has to clean it up,

and that only if it is cleaned up 

can we hope to start over, and get better.

Marsha Norman
as quoted in Interviews With Contemporary Women Playwrights

november

It was November―the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul. 

 L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

I know; I know.  I'm forever singing the praises of autumn and winter. Not only do I gravitate toward a neutral palette of grays, I happen to thrive on plenty of cool, fresh air.  Maybe it has something to do with being a Libra, the cardinal air sign of the zodiac, but just like Anne of Green Gables, I must embrace that great sweeping wind.  It certainly does blow the darkness out of my soul, chase the black dog from my doorstep. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off for a fast November drive in the Rover with the windows down, wind-fingers in my hair...


image: November view from the french doors at Willow Manor