A day yesterday, good workshop, strange cakes and a nice story about a gazelle clock. Thank you world for your various kindnesses.
Dinner at my favorite Mexican joint--half-cafe/half-pinatas-strung-from-the-ceiling-grocery. Today is a long walk, some writing, more friend-time and the paying of November's too-many bills on November's too-little funds. I splurged a little: new, wonderful lamp, and a pencil skirt with giraffe print.
Even Monday's faculty meeting is nearly instantly-redeemed by a very-looked-forward-to lunch at a quiet Japanese place near Dublin. (That sounds so international.)
Confession of the Oak Tree
I would shed my leaves in an instant,
If I could shake their delicate skeletons
off my frame, those brittle reminders
of last season's small failures.
I want to be bare and unencumbered.
Strip me naked; my rough bark
no longer shames me the way it used to.
Leave smooth skin to the saplings,
tender and thin, yet to survive
the droughts and floods I have weathered.
Sheath me in gnarled knobs and dimples,
a woody armor thick enough
to protect the sap I used to spill
at the peck of every careless bird.
Copyright © 2009 Alice Pettway All rights reserved
from Barbed Wire and Bedclothes