This Los Angeles morning lends itself to rainfall dropping like pills, sliding down throats with steamy black coffee. Makes me proud to know this weather and greet this day...no make-up on. Same teared up cheeks from last night's drama, left little room for new melancholy. I just sit still to listen to earth's new noise. A continuum seeping without injury; hard to sustain. Don't burn the timbers in vain. Share your hands to lend warmth. It is in this pocket where humanity is cradled.
Since I was a little girl, I was in love with wind, the land, and the proximity of the moon. Her glowing face shed just enough grace to soothe my tears in its quiet light. I felt the depth of her passion, her longing, her loneliness, her strength. I sought the eyes of her face; along with their color, and holding smile. She traced me along the footprint I patted down; little girl beating brown; a tiny hand of mud.
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