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

secret whisper

At dawn you were riding a hot air balloon
anticipation of beauty and terror
a landscape of vineyards, mountains, houses in cluster and solitary
one thousand, two thousand feet or higher

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the perspective became wider, objects became smaller
even at the highest point a limit of what you could see
a grain of sand of reality or imagination
light and vision, dreams
lingering at the threshold of waking

then the balloon descended
restoring a balance,“the gravity of unadorned song”
doesn’t sound “intelligent or coherent”
of “what just vanished, a shadow moving away”.

After clouds lifted you experienced
a brighter morning, an eternal frame of hope
“a line of beauty”, “ a riddle”,
“a beauty wedded to something meaningful”,
psst, a secret whisper from an alleyway.”
note: the quoted words are from the book. The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. The story is rich, superb.