A few more stones

1/5 - End of every good day, we sweep the stable, hay and mud chased out the barn door, where at dusk we will forget not to walk through it, track it onto our neglected kitchen floors.

1/6 - In the gray, cool, dead-grass, damp-air, January meadow, one yellow flower whispers, "Bright things can grow here. Wait."

Mindful Writing Challenge (Small Stones)

January is the month of the Mindful Writing Challenge, and although I have been absent from this blog for some time, I have been picking up my small stones. I'll try to post them daily going forward, but here they are so far:


1/1/13 - Down the block, I hear fireworks and car horns honking. The dog flicks one ear. The cat twitches her whiskers. I pull up the covers.


1/2/13 - Cold sunset shines off the ice in hoofprint puddles. Anywhere this is true, I fit.


1/3/13 - She scratches blue ink on a page full of numbers, compares the sum to bills crunched in her fist. Adding three hundred, but counting just two. Over and over and over.


1/4/13 - He grips my fingertips, frustrated to the core. His handshape familiar, I flip my own hand to meet his, declare thumb war. His eyes raise to mine, smile, marvel: Teacher's lost her marbles.