Pouring the Day
For a moment, I thought the wine bottle was a cat. Perched dark and silken on the step, it had that same still composure that felines do. I'd placed it there on my way to the laundry room. After checking the status of my tumbling clothing, I took up the wine and stuck it in the fridge: saved for some future day...
This Tuesday was all water and mist. The air: weighted. A dreamy day-off, moments blurring by. It's feeling late, now. The morning alarm is looming. Ah. Well.
Some music and a tall glass of water and I'm off to bed.
Be Free.
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For some reason this reminds me of that, now, long-ago day when I first proposed IndiFest to you. Maybe it's the blue night that does it. I know if we push those clouds way (it's damp here too) there is an indigo sky.
Indigo
I know that under,
The grey clouds dimming,
There's an indigo sky,
Swimming.
The world's water-washed,
Cathedral to the human condition,
Temple to fascination,
In swimming.
I escape from one star to the next,
Each moment a dewdrop of time.
I love the poem, Lonita -- and fondly remember the ideas for IndiFest. Thanks for reposting, this (and for letting me know about the commenting problem!)