The trees color my morning
My morning walk expands my day
Mixing two colors brings a third
Juxtaposition of two words or phrases
Brings a fresh thought
A ladder standing next to an empty garden
Or goats knocking on my door
A glass of scotch or a glass wine
How do you start
To add meaning to your day?
What’s the meaning of starting your day?
She has no troubles.
She has no troubled existence
She can’t immediately forget
She has many “for the first time”
she has not experienced yet.
The phrase ”for the first time” excites her.
How does it feel to sleep and wake in an ice palace?
She wants to spend the four seasons in different parts of the world.
She is almost seventy.
Then there is an ancient advice:
Have a “constant” everyday
even just a tiny ripple
a glance, a fold, a sliver, a tantrum
a constant of surprise
Sometimes you try to retrieve
from the rooms waning summer holidays of memory
harvest, dancing, night serenades
love grows with each song.
Today, autumn starts
crisp air, sun drenched multiple colored leaves
She has to remember again
the many ways to wear her pashmina.
a halo of black curly hair
and your distracted face.
the mountain’s affection for the sunflower field
radical, abstract, abundant
folding laundry, looking at each other’s eyes
Quietly your self worth diminishes
like salt on a pavement
your voice loses its tone, forgotten.
Who will remember you?
A shadow in a system.
You cry. New tide comes,
covers the muddy river bank.
The white egret returns.
You survive another day.
Note: Last week Mrs. Abstract and I and our two friends toured Andy Warhol’s art Exhibit at MOMA in San Francisco, California. Very interesting.
Books I’m currently reading: Moby Dick by Melville and Paris, 7 A.M. by Liza Wieland, a novel about a young Elizabeth Bishop.