I’m slowly catching up on a summer’s worth of poems! Thanks for making me look outside my window this morning to catch the rosy glow of sunrise in an uncommon fog-free sky. Also loved the rosy chalk line! Perfect name for that. And yes to the micro seasons, Ann. What’s the word for end of summer, start of fall when you feel it’s changing but you’re not quite ready?
OMG Petrina I just found this comment! So glad you liked these two poems, and that they sent you to your window. And you would LOVE Ann's Substack on her contemplation of microseasons. I hope you check it out.
Love these-- brief and drenched with the moment. You help us stand with you in the tiny liminal spaces and reverence what is Now. And intuitively, we know there are more than just four seasons. It's such a playful task to notice this. I'm never tired of learning about and living inside the 72 microseasons.
I’m slowly catching up on a summer’s worth of poems! Thanks for making me look outside my window this morning to catch the rosy glow of sunrise in an uncommon fog-free sky. Also loved the rosy chalk line! Perfect name for that. And yes to the micro seasons, Ann. What’s the word for end of summer, start of fall when you feel it’s changing but you’re not quite ready?
OMG Petrina I just found this comment! So glad you liked these two poems, and that they sent you to your window. And you would LOVE Ann's Substack on her contemplation of microseasons. I hope you check it out.
I was so taken with these poems that I haven’t tired of hearing you read them!
“Bursts of green through the gold”—made me remember those seasons so clearly.
Thank you for these rays of sunshine!
I'm so glad they brightened your day, sister Looocinda! ❤️
To those of you slowing our roll, and hitting pause, thank you! Through photos, art, poetry or stories; you bring stillness to beauty.
Happy to be of service. :-)
I like that “rosy chalk line”. Let me know if you ever want suggestions.
Thanks, Weston!
Love these-- brief and drenched with the moment. You help us stand with you in the tiny liminal spaces and reverence what is Now. And intuitively, we know there are more than just four seasons. It's such a playful task to notice this. I'm never tired of learning about and living inside the 72 microseasons.
Thanks so much for reading these poems, Ann - I'm glad they spoke to you. Your shared contemplation on the microseasons is a gift to all of us!