dogtrax

There is a quiet descending down among us who pause and wonder

Glimmer (working, blooming, resisting)

The wonder of any icicle like this single one dangling off the edge of the sloped porch roof is the patience this gathering of water has shown to be what it is, to be where it is, and my own slowed act of noticing is barely a blink in its day of each molecule of water holding tight and fast before the inevitable fall

Friction (gritty, heavy, broken)

Not quite like fingernails on a chalkboard, but close enough, the turning wheeled gears of the garage bay doors rubbing metal on metal - the loud scraping and scratching, a reminder of a decision made long ago that a machine would not be needed

Neutral (it simply is)

Years ago, I watched these two tall pine trees bend in a Nor'easter's vicious wind gusts — bent they did, but they never did break, holding on like heroes of a story — and still, the twins stand, still at the edge of the driveway, two silent sentries with an armor of twisted bark

Note: We are asked to slow down. To notice. To pay gentle attention to the slowness of our world. We’re using the lens of Glimmer, Friction and Neutral.

https://initiativeforliteracy.org/the-discipline-of-noticing/

A willow of smoke snakes its way skyward through trees: an invitation

(A flock of)

four trumpeter swans

flecked with gold

scolds the shadows

— lines borrowed from Steve's Vertical poems

https://sleepingdog.mataroa.blog/blog/three-untitled-vertical-poems/

Each single crystal, each pattern – an ice puzzle - scissors on the snow

A slip and a slide; the hashtags mark where weather collides with football

for Algot

Annotated songs across an entire year; John's (song)Book of Days

for #ds106 with This Year: 365 Songs Annotated (A Book Of Days) by John Darnielle (of Mountain Goats fame)

The tree bark's a map of lines leading up, like vines; each path ends at sky

A long whispered sigh signals itself from the glass carafe on the kitchen counter as the small pot of coffee gurgles its way to a stop; I fill a mug, take a sip and begin to write

for #ds106

Almost a baseball buried beneath the soft ground, the turnip surprises