You are illuminated cranberry glass
the glow of a molten sunset
the iridescence of hummingbird wings
You are the dance of kite strings
the song of a mockingbird
the quintessence of possibility
You are all I long to be
the dreams of a millennium
the hope of eternity
You are innocence in a cradle
the wisdom of the elders
the infinity of the finite.
You are bubbles of laughter
the effervescence of everything
the reason.
Overheating dog
stretching out on the cool–floor’s
better than a swim.
.
.
It’s better because I have poodles, and drying after the swim is beyond onerous! Despite the breed being named for their task of bird-dogging into puddles, I prefer mine to stay dry, and they seem of the same mind!
I love you high
I love you low
I love you near
I love you far
I love you shallow
I love you deep
I love you awake
I love you asleep
I love you now
I love you then
I love you forever
and ever
Amen.
The bravest thing you ever did
was open the door of your dark room
and invite in the light.
The bravest thing you ever did
was to believe someone could
hold you in the night.
The bravest thing you ever did
was embrace the possibility
that something might
The bravest thing you ever did
was to look through your window
and claim the sight
The bravest thing you ever did
was to climb through the window
into the light.
When I loved you
I gathered hope
into a basket.
I saved your smile,
your voice
your messages,
your kiss,
your letters,
your music,
all wrapped in
mingled memories.
I saved you,
an artefact of artifice.
On rainy days
you tumbled onto
the table of
my mind,
a shining
collection of what
was never real,
a perfect impression
of impossibility,
from a basket
of wasted dreams.
At the water park
Small children dance and shake like
robins in puddles
Just read this. It’s good. It’s relevant. It makes me want to go sculpt some first lines!
I wish upon you
like a star.
I find you–
a hot rock cooling
in the field, enveloped in
tendrils of mist.
I turn and tumble
you in my mind
Transform you into
a perfect talisman,
hold you in my pocket
roll you in my palm-
a star to wish upon
for stars are only
burning rocks,
and we are all
stardust.
I hang you
in the heavens
to glow.
I wish upon
the wonder
that is you.
.
“With a rustle of silks,”
she said into her memo
recorder,
as I was telling her
how I liked her phrase,
“caution plucked at his sleeve.”
Do other writers
consult their favourite authors
in their dreams?
.
.
“Caution plucked at his sleeve” is from chapter 83 in Diana Gabaldon’s A Breath of Snow and Ashes
Shawn L. Bird 
in spite of themselves
Yesterday I touched on a common thing with 13-14 year olds, that they have to challenge the adults and complain. It’s nothing personal, it’s just their way of asserting their autonomy, even if it hurts them more than anyone else.
We have an old family video that illustrates this well. I’m a baby, so my brother is about 14. The family is off to Vancouver Island to spend time at my dad’s company cabin on Long Beach, in what is now Pacific Rim National Park. While the rest of the family sits out in the wind enjoying the ferry ride, bro is sitting inside with a comic book, ignoring everyone else. When the camera comes near him, he scowls. Later, I’m toddling along the shore, my sister is playing with a dingy in the waves with a friend, and again, bro is reading a comic and scowling. After…
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