note: I’m trying to learn how to photograph the moon.
A 90-year-old woman broke the fence
and walked away,
steps exultant and free.
All the wet clothes hanging in the clothesline
fly away after a heavy gush of wind
I’m left speechless
Shall I chase the clothes?
Can I find my way back?
What does it mean to be lost?
Once, I got lost in Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar.
My cell phone was not in my pocket.
Reflections of a bee
Struggle to find flowers laden with nectar
Weaving the coordinates in space
A path to return
How can I put time in space
The shadows move
Or placing space in time
Finding ways to fend tasteless poisons
From conceived enemies and how to avoid them
and seeing the precariousness of singular journey.
Picnickers shove me away
Photographers love me
You listen to my buzz, you are aware of my presence
I am aware of yours
Our exchange of greetings seems to stir deep affection
It does matter we don’t know each other.
I have to persuade myself
Of virtue in small things.
note: I’m reading Possession by A. S. Byatt for our book club. We finished Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders.
to thread a needle
a steady hand, a clear eye
and a grateful heart.
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