Katy searched for the correct way to reject the invitation. She was not inclined to meet Adam at midnight and drive to the open field 20 minutes away to see some famous “shooting star.” 
Adam was a nice colleague, good-looking in an academic, black-glasses-hiding-thick-black-eyebrows kind of way, with a shy smile. Katy could tell he was interested in her. He acted as if she was a fairy princess who lit up a room whenever she entered. Continue reading
How do we celebrate while we hide in our
Abodes, waiting for a vaccine, waiting for
Peace of mind, waiting for life to
Pierce our inertia with hope that we can soon say
Yes to traveling and hugging and eating out again? Continue reading
Hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree is one of the finest pleasures of the Christmas season.
Because, of course, we’re not just hanging a silver glittery ball or a tiny red straw Santa.
We’re hanging memories.
Snow falls as silently as stardust on a bright clear night.
Stardust covers the houses and the trees and the ground and you –
if you’re out on a star-filled night.
The sound is a hush.
A hush as haunting and beautiful as a
mother’s lullaby to her newborn babe.
It’s the same sound of snow falling on oak and dale,
on lampposts and driveway, on forest and plain.
But the snowflakes are exposed by their very nature;
they are white and pristine on a background of pewter sky.
The snow shines like elegant moving polka dots
floating with the grace of a thousand ballerinas.
It’s the dance of nature’s beauty,
of the grace of life and death,
of love from the spirit of the universe.
Snow falls silently so we can hear
our own delight at nature’s spectacle.
Snow falls silently so we can accept
our life, and death,
on nature’s terms.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO MY ROUGHWIGHTING READERS
FROM MY HOUSE – TO YOURS
roughwighting 