Lately, I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been feeling quiet; I’ve been enjoying listening. Life is always rearranging itself. I just have to roll with it. I think a large piece of that is listening. Hearing. I think that listening is an art-form that is ignored a lot today. It takes a lot of concentration.
Today, the sky beyond nearly bare trees is cloudy and ominous. There is a pink-white tinge to it. I want to go and run into it. Like that poem about a climber of birches. Oh, Halloween, you aren’t meant to be so quiet. A friend called the other day and told me that she has been feeling this way, too. Like she has something to say, but keeps choking on it. Why does this feel so hard? I like words, they are my friends. Lately, though, I just want to run from them, or into them. I don’t know.