Before I begin...if you want to comment on any of these blogs the best way I know to do it is to click on the "no comments" link and you will be brought to a comment screen. A friend of mine asked if I was seeing her comments and I have not been seeing them. I tested out the "no comments" link and it brought me to the comments screen. A little counter-intuitive to go through the "no" to get to the "yes" but these are the days when all my assumptions seem to be under suspicion.
Mr. Owl is sitting on the top of the water tower tonight. It has been a bit of time since I saw him. Imagine my relief to see him perched on the tippy-top of the tiniest bit of rod on the top of the water tank. I began my greetings to him as I stared into the night sky just as a falling star shot across the sky in a long arc. Signs and wonders meant for me on an evening when I need them so deeply. I made a wish on the star which is a secret wish I anticipate with joy.
I work my first hour at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning. My brother is visiting with my mom. We had a great time tonight as my son came over with his little family. My brother looks so much like my father now. Vivid resemblances are difficult to navigate. One moment I saw my father move in my brother's face. The next moment I saw my brother. A tug at my spirit brought memories of dad. My brother brought my father to life for seconds at a time. But my brother's laughter, which I have not heard in a long, long time, belongs solely to him. His laughter is impossible to resist. His laughter demands a laugh from all present even when they have no clue what is funny. Joy! Joy! My brother laughing and sitting in my dad's loungechair. We seldom have time with him. This evening was short, precious, healing and will be a tasty morsel of memory as we tell stories of our family.
It was on my mind to write a poem or the lyrics of a song tonight. There was one rumbling round in my head until I sat down to write. If you read this blog you know full well that I wander around inside my head spinning thoughts together one after the other. A mental spider weaving a complex web stringing from place to place; a gossamer spider web caught with the dew and the young morning sun reflecting off of the strands revealing for a brief moment the home of an artist. A spider with an artist's spirit and a strong purpose ignoring all around to weave a web of finest splendor. A web that will ensnare an intruder leaving no way to escape, stuck firmly to the binding strands, glistening now with the spider web glue. At this point I have no clue what this has to do with my writing but maybe one of you clever readers can find the thread and follow it. I? I have lost the thread, the path and the desire to find it. All in a few minutes from poem to song to a bug stuck in a spidere web. My! Oh, my! What shall I do? What shall I do?
Adieu!
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