Oh, how I truly love letters. With my beige envelopes and bird printed stationary I write almost everyone dear to me a note. Using black ink and a feather tip I practice my cursive admist a heartfelt collection of words I intend to send abroad. Sharing stories, thoughts, and recent events. And then I'll stamp the letters, address them from memory, and leave them at the post. Await a few weeks as I ponder up their journey. Did they travel by plane, ship, or train? And soon enough they will arrive slightly bent and dampened by rain, in the mailbox of an unexpected recipient. And as they reread the words I've already read, on the paper I picked for design, they'll think of me wherever I am. And what a sweet thought is that. That somewhere in this world I have been thought of. And perhaps, in a few weeks, unexpectedly, I shall find a stamped fold of paper that will cause a thought of them as well.
Window Water Droplets
One more Bering Sea storm this summer. Seems as though there has been a never ending collection this year. As the world south of me, connected merely by the title of the United States, fights heats they've rarely ever seen, I'm stricken with water and wind. Dark clouds trace the path of the Yukon River making their way barely inland and then fading while playing in circles between Alaska and Siberia. I mustn't complain, for I quite like the dark days. Keeps the dust on the dirt roads grounded and the willows thrive to their prime in such conditions. So as this day passes just as most this summer have, I'll not take for granted the droplets dripping down my window. Perhaps I'll even join them outside my front door.
Be The Wind
I want to stand amongst wicked winds. Let them throw and thrash and attempt to knock me down. I want to stand still slightly leaning in their direction. Let my hair fall in directions gravity isn't pulling. I want to outstretch my arms as though I'm attempting to hug the world, to catch the power. And as the air shakes the grass around me I want to feel still. I want to feel silent. I want to all be a part of the loud whisper. I'll let my body fall into a state unknown to many men. And for an instant, in wild prarie company, I will be the wind. I will be the air. Powerless yet with all the strength in the world.
Thrift Shop Pearl Necklace
At the thrift shop on the corner I found a pearl necklace. Four dollars and fifteen cents. Not quite sure if it's faux or real, but I suppose either way it doesn't have much effect. I'll accessorize each outfit with the golden white jewels. Accenting my collarbones that always seem to be hidden behind some sort of something. And when I slip them off at night, unhooking the golden clasp that reads 14 kge (no jewelry expert am I, but I hope to come across a book that tells me what that means) I will admire them fondly upon my nightstand. Pondering their home of the sea, imagining the glorious women that they were previously carefully worn upon. All of the events they have attended. All of the magical moments they have seen. And while viewing them sweetly, I'll enter my dreams, to dream what they will experience with me.
Sketching Unicorns
On this ragid old sofa in my wooden little house, I'll grab a pencil and paper today. The paper thin and stacked haphazardly binded by a cardboard cover. The pencil's cheap and not made for stetching. But with what I have, although not fit for art, I'll create a little something. Sketch a unicorn with wings jumping to the sky. Perfectly etched with long legs and a twisted horn. Beautiful eyes and dark hooves. And I'll think to myself what a darling wonder this being would be to see. My little piece of poorly drawn art will take me back to the innocent imagination I hold so dear to my mind. And on a nothingless day like today, make-believe seems to be the most pleasent of homes. And why not go there with a pencil and paper and a unicorn sketch?
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