The candle flickered between us
as we ate our dinner in comfortable silence.
At one point, he put his fork down and said,
“Are there two flames in that candle?”
So I stared at it for a moment.
I watched the candle.
He watched me.
Our food got cold.
“Nope. That’s an optical illusion.
The second flame is a reflection on the crystal.
I cleaned it this morning.”
“Oh,” he said, and went back to eating.
“It’s two flames,” he said again.
I smiled and nodded.
I suppose that’s the same thing — to be afloat or buoyed up. Well. Maybe not so much.
This park, Black Shoals, is fairly close to our home. My husband and I drive out to a wooden covered bridge there every once in a while. We used to walk on the trail by the water, and then just up to the bridge, where we’d look out across the water — mostly at nothing at all. It’s a nice way to spend an afternoon talking. Or not talking. After 30 years, the silence can be just as intimate. Maybe more.
These past few years have seen very low water levels due to drought, so when I saw this sailboat I was surprised. I didn’t think sailboats could handle such a small draft. Maybe the water here is way deeper than I thought. Anyway, it was quite a surprise to see the boat appear out of nowhere.
I enjoyed the couple sailing. They reminded me of us, my honey and I. Out on a quiet sunny day doing little more than enjoying each other’s company. More than just staying afloat and surviving, it’s a delightful way to keep each other moving on this journey together.
Twilight spreads its cover —
a blanket of stars
twinkling in the azure
expanse of evening.
Too dark for day.
Too light for night.
They compete for attention
as they slowly ignite the sky.
laughter filled the room.
Boisterous and free,
it changed everything
For a moment.
after the rain
wet soil —
teeming with hope
I ran across this project in my Twitter feed this morning and thought I could be up to the challenge: in a nutshell, do something for 100 consecutive days.
You can read about the project, and the folks behind it, Elle Luna and The Great Discontent, HERE.
For my part, I need to commit to a project. Easy. I want to write one poem a day for the next 99 days. I’m sure a few will be good. I expect most to be, if not awful, then probably so-so. I can live with that, especially if out of the batch I can have some work to revise, rework, and repurpose.
I’m looking forward to the freedom of creating without having to worry about quality. I’m going to trust the process, and trust myself. My favorite piece of this?
Stop doubting. Start doing.