Saturday, November 30, 2013

Wrapped in Wonder



From a rowhouse window, I watch the slightest sliver of waning crescent, quiet as candlelight, at the edge of the eastern horizon, in the crisp November night, three hours before it disappears into dawn. The room is at rest, ready for December, and I am wrapped in winter wool, writing in the waning light of two wax tapers. Waxing, waning, and moving toward new moon, where we begin again.



Written Receipts for Paid Attention


 

1 comment:

  1. Oh my, I am so struck by this, so on the same page, to the point of literally just having written the line "And start again, and again and again and again."

    I think that is the key, right there in that word so shaped like a key.

    And this is a most beautiful word painting. Thank you.

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