January 31st

Drawing the bow. First to the left because I am Yin. Inspiring, full of white light, only intent no aiming, no target. Exhaling all grief. Exhaling the stagnant chi. Balancing honoring the Yang me. Drawing the bow to the right. All elements gently in motion guided by my breath, guided by my Yi.  Wuji.

January 30th

Today would be my father’s 84th birthday. The Internet, cable, and telephone service was out most of the day.  Ironic because he was very interested in communications, radio, television, and phones. He would have loved the Internet. Sadly, he passed just before it became a popular. This is life and this is death. I miss him very much.

January 28th

This cold is no longer poetic. It is no longer a temporary diversion or aberration. It is no longer romantic.  I’m weary of trying to make the best of it.  It has given me and my vehicle an acute case of Tourette’s. Theater patrons walk like aliens eyes cast to their feet, teeth clenched,  all skin covered, hand in pockets, steam curling from their nostrils, brisk stiff steps. We need to escape!

January 27th

In the sky deep sapphire blue, moon is a but sliver venus keeps vigil.

January 26th

An open door in sub zero temps, stubborn dog , errands,  lost tooth, summer hat, zippers, mittens, frosted car windows, full trash bin, dirty dishes, empty bowls, phone calls, email, mail - Wuji. Taiji, Yin Yang. Wan Wu

January 25th

The old dog’s dream sounds underscored by the hardddrive’s hum

January 24th

There’s no moon
I wait
Cold seeps into my bones
I wait
I search the dark sky
I wait
Gradually you appear
I wait
You begin to dance
Some say you are bearing messages
I watch
I listen
You play your visual symphony in the starry sky
I’m trapped t by your Mysterious beauty
I wait
You come and go unannounced
I wait
I fear you not
I wait
Your visit is a blessing however brief
You show me I am at home
I wait
You will be gone with the dawn
I wait
I watch
I shiver
Someday you will dance for my children
They wait warm in their beds
Tonight it is just us
Two drifters in the night

January 23rd

I saw on the news that the sun was visible in Barrow today. In the dark of the moon on the frozen horizon a glowing hint of summer’s fervent sentinel mesmerizes.

January 22nd

Plundered True Crime Detective magazines reburied beneath musty layers of clothes in the old dresser drawer - A 10-year-old’s booty..

January 21st

Celebrating his birthday the polar bear at the zoo chose the red frozen treat over the yellow one, of course.

January 20th

My dogs and I patiently wait out the winter together. They store tummy rubs and ear scritches for the time when their now soulful dark eyes will be gleaming with the sun’s mischievousness and this time of waiting will be but a memory.

January 19th

The wicked wind ruthlessly perpetrates its crimes. It violates, penetrates, deranges, binds, gags, steals, rages, rampages, maims, and murders. A spree unceasing on helpless victims.

January 18th

Picking cherries, feeling the warm summer breeze. The sun offers a reassuring mother’s touch. Fluffy clouds, grassy carpet, luscious red cherries - In meditation I can go anywhere and no where at all.

January 17th

Mom has a brand new knee. The old knee worn from scrubbing floors and bending in prayer, from climbing stairs carrying stock for the shelves and from kneeling to pull up daughters’ knee-highs. What serves can become weak and painful.

January 16th

The wind always brings change. Chunks of sea ice collide into unbreakable ranges. Miles grow longer. Eventually, everything surrenders to the persistent wind.

January 14th

Poor old dog can’t find summer or sunlight. Its not out either door.  

January 13th

Friday night and my feet still want to dance. I slip the headphones on and travel on sweet voices back to a time when work weary arms embraced, calloused fingers strummed, and rosined bows flew.

January 12th

Calmness amidst chaos strikes a balance when the soup burns. Pride stumbles. Chop wood, carry water, scrub the pot, keep breathing.

January 11th

Clouds conceal the moon. Melting snow drips from the roof. All awaits the tempest.

January 10th

Mars is suspended in time today. Calendar days are stuck in their box. I am suspended in my house. Winter holds us captive. Pry open the window; let the breezes inside. Thoughts and dreams fly. Be present in the moment, feel Spring’s promissory kiss. Love will come again.