River of Stones - Day 31

January comes to a close with frost-covered fields and gardens.
Bleached skies and clouded breath suggest winter is here to stay,
but growing on a bush like a faint whisper of hope
the woolly pussy willows tell me spring is on the way.

River of Stones - Day 30

High tension lines look like strings holding up the tower
as if an electrified marionette for a giant or for the gods,
but we all know it only plays puppet to the ever-growing,
never ending show of human consumption. 

River of Stones - Day 29

A white scratch etched upon the perfect blue sky--
        the result of a jet flying by--
              reminds me all scars fade with time.

River of Stones - Day 28

Two days have come and gone without my posting a stone.Why? It is not as if writing about a single moment of observation is a difficult task. The task can be completed in two minutes. To be honest, I am not sure why. Perhaps it lies in selfishness. I'm like a little girl who came home on her birthday, opened the door and found the puppy she'd been longing for. She picks it up and holds it close, perhaps a bit too tightly at first, not wanting to let go. For the moment, the whole world exists of soft fluffy fur. Yes. That's it.  I am lost in the moment, holding my stones tight. Some stones are just too precious to skim across the surface of the river.

River of Stones - Day 25

Lunch-time: A golden sun glows in the vast blue sky. A beautiful day. He tells me he plans on taking a bike ride after work.

Closing time: A hazy backdrop sets the scene for giant flakes cascading to the ground. Squiggly slide marks already decorate the road. He tells me to drive safely and I nod, both of us knowing how quickly things can change.

River of Stones- Day 24

I slow as I turn onto the street, knowing the crosswalk lies in the middle and not at the end of the road. Sure enough, there they are. Four men and three women wait and listen. I stop, watch them make their way to the other side. Two have only linked arms to guide them; the others have their canes. They leave the blind community center and head toward town. Funny how they always seem to cross my path at the perfect times, always a reminder to slow down. To stop and see all the beauty life has to offer. To give gratitude.

River of Stones - Day 23

The soft fleece scarf and knit hat serve their purpose but the air slaps my face. Toes concealed in lined boots still feel the cold and gloved hands are wrapped around handles bars in a half frozen grip. I feel like I am sitting on a seat of ice. Shifting gears I follow him uphill. I keep pedalling, faster and faster, waiting for the blood to circulate, to pump heat through my body. Winter bicycle rides are a killer until the muscles warm.