After a two-week slurry of cold rain, snow, and hail, Sun has finally kissed the meadow and the old house in the Coast Range. The day has been a deafening buzz, bang, and screech of power tools, those kilowatt servants brought in to support my struggle to keep this place standing for another generation. Shadows deepen and lengthen into evening. Body and soul are beat down tired, and I’m longing for a small wild space to sit and become quietly attentive to the other-than-human world. There is a spot just inside the edge of the old forest, a place where
I think of humming to my great-grandchildren, how it relaxes them and me, how we bond and snuggle. Mmmm, much like om and mom. Words that quiet the mind & soul. Thanks for this, Tom. xo
Ah you have taken me to a whole new level of murmurations...I finished your piece feeling the interconnections of roots below and swifts above in one murmuring dance.
I think of humming to my great-grandchildren, how it relaxes them and me, how we bond and snuggle. Mmmm, much like om and mom. Words that quiet the mind & soul. Thanks for this, Tom. xo
I enjoyed this piece and so wish I could hear you and Charles read and have a blast.
Ah you have taken me to a whole new level of murmurations...I finished your piece feeling the interconnections of roots below and swifts above in one murmuring dance.