Time passing

B53033D0-17AD-48B5-8090-9D289654C36A5C047E80-0B7E-4287-936E-1E030B9DA67974BD3F23-6486-4A95-8018-909C19C5B52028A2E5FC-F509-4CA3-BD3C-33166CCB828ATime’s passing so quickly 

You have not returned from your walk

You should have been getting ready

To go to ride the ferry 

Eating breakfast, dressing up

But morning unfurls like a yarn with a cat

The telephone is garbled confusion

Converging into cries and disbelief

Of what has happened.

 

Tears take time to dry

Smile takes time to sustain

Flowers, sea, flamingoes, stories can not 

Take the place of loss, we

Brave each morning, learning

New steps, each night may bring 

New dreams, to remember and celebrate 

Your life that will not return 

Understanding and surrender take time

Love bears and endures all things 

The only truth I have to know.

To thread a needle

It will be difficult to thread a needle

If you are farsighted.

 

He loses his temper and throws the dental floss

He doesn’t want to talk or smile.

 

She doesn’t chase the last word anymore when she talks

She observes the three bees on the rhododendron.

 

He drives in the forest and along the coast

He is calm under the redwood trees.

 

She drops the vase filled with water and flowers on the living room

Her right hand is bleeding.

 

He helps her clean up

They decide to make amends.

 

“Seize the day,” the poet says

Helping others is the crowning praise.

 

It’s wonderful when verb and adjectives are used together

I like crabs dancing under the candle lights.

 

When pronouns drop in , it’s hilarious

All the nouns scatter.

 

They are laughing walking on the beach

Beethoven is a pianist, then a composer.

 

Experience of loss and sad endings are dispersed in life

They are secret ingredients of freedom.

 

She runs alone, alone with her own thoughts

The hardest challenge.

 

Failure, triumph, dried tears, lost tracts of time

In sepia then autumn raging with colors.

 

Embroidery is a sacred craft

We welcome new threads.

The day as it happens

My day starts late with a walk to the river

Counting the black birds on the tree

They come down to feed on feeders

Thrown by a woman on the sidewalk.

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Our activity continues to the downtown

Where children and adults parade their lanterns,

Light attires, jellyfish lighted parasols, costumes. 

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Their route passes along where lgihted arts

Are projected on buildings complete with music and narrations.

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We end the evening under the huge moon

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As if it falls down from the sky

Which is what one child asks her mother about.

“Kintsugi”

“In Japan there is a kind of reverence for the art of mending. In the context of the tea ceremony there is no such thing as failure or success in the way we are accustomed to using those words. A broken bowl would be valued precisely because of the exquisite nature of how it was repaired, a distinctly Japanese tradition of kintsugi, meaning to “to patch with gold”. Often, we try to repair broken things in such a way as to conceal the repair and make it “good as new.” But the tea masters understood that by repairing the broken bowl with the distinct beauty of radiant gold, they could create an alternative to “good as new” and instead employ a “better than new” aesthetic. They understood that a conspicuous, artful repair actually adds value. Because after mending, the bowl’s unique fault lines were transformed into little rivers of gold that post repair were even more special because the bowl could then resemble nothing but itself. Here lies that radical physical transformation from useless to priceless, from failure to success. All of the fumbling and awkward moments you will go through, all of the failed attempts, all of the near misses, all of the spontaneous curiosity will eventually start to steer you in exactly the right direction.”
-Teresita Fernández, sculptor
quoted by Maria Popova in Brain Pickings