For Lindy I’ve written this poem a thousand times in my head Before I ever put pen to paper. You see, there’s a part of me that’s not–not a lot– Just some flotsam discarded on a road long unguarded. I left Lindy by the wayside before I turned 25, And although I tried, I couldn’t stop looking Over-shoulder to see if she came after. She followed me home until I
They listened to the wind through the branches, wrapped arm in arm, alone and complete. Beyond the walls of the small weathered house, night creatures foraged for anything they could find, invisible owners of the desolate plains.
Smoke billows Ice clinks The clickity-clack of the Remington Like a train on the tracks Speeding into the next The ding signals the end Heels slip on And she is gone *** Amy Harrison is an artist who loves all things vintage and coffee. She currently resides in Colorado Springs with her husband, hound dog, and butler. (Full disclosure: the butler is a tuxedo cat.)
“Gimme Shelter” echoed across the lake as the spectators watched the event unfold. A wakeboarder launched into the air and curled in a perfect circular arch, straining to reach the unbounded sky just a kiss away.
There’s a difference between doing things and worrying about them. Sometimes, we feed on worry like it’s our only nourishment when in fact its a powerful mind virus, replicating itself in endless iterations of fear and doubt that remove us from the beauty of the moment.
“The Universe Bends Toward Justice” by Martin Luther King, Jr. / “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry
Interlaced by Lucy Bell When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, When despair for the world grows in me And when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe working to pull down the