I heard my favorite raven calls yesterday morning, those round sounds that seem like love talk, like overhearing the quiet morning murmur of two people in bed, their own little bubble, lovers who have been together for a long time talking about the day to come, about last night, people who know how to rest together, how to share peace.
[Spontaneous writing prompt, revised. Words were round and rest.]
My dragons in the books I’ve been rereading are like magpies, drawn to the shiny, the silver, to the gold of Napoleon’s eagles. I like glitter, too, and quiet neighborhoods and memories of Sundays when I was a child in Tujunga, and I sat in the back seat of our white Monza while my father drove, and every store on Foothill Boulevard was closed and the sidewalks were empty.
[Spontaneous writing prompt, words were silver and Sunday. The books I reference here are Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series.]
doubt |dout|
A wavering of certainty, a wobbling of confidence in the rightness of things. She knew she was doing what needed to be done, but still doubt stalked her, circling her ankles like a cat in the dark.
Today I sit on the edge of my bed in the morning looping cords over my head, laying stones against my chest. I sit for a minute doing nothing, relishing this Saturday, knowing I am off from both my jobs. I sing my little “It’s my holiday” song complete with hand movements and wiggled hips. And in these impromptu acts, these sounds and movements, I feel myself relinquish eleven minutes of believing life is hard.
I unroll my thick green yoga mat in the small flat space beside the shallow end of the pool. It’s full dark already, but I am determined to do my yoga. I face west to do my sun salutes and picture the sun still setting somewhere beyond the curve of the world. After, lying on my back in chavasana, there are more stars in the sky than I remember seeing here before. The moon hangs above me, just to the left. I lie still for a long time, open to the sky, bathing in the silent, magic light.
I place the big liquid amber leaf
over the dying cricket
canopy and comfort I hope
I righted him once
but he is on his back again
as if in chavasana
and I think
that’s how I feel closest
to the earth
and the universe too.
The readout on the gas pump
says thank you
Thank you I say out loud
and giggle.
No Holds Barred 