Spirit Cloth

It Stopped Raining

Knowing, from experience, that I mostly never finish, according to the standards of others,

I am putting the pennant in the mail this afternoon.

It holds, keeps, a few dreams together. And we might imagine the rest.

it's december

Or...

Maybe my note for today should be..

it's December and we're no closer.

The storm moved through

Just one more...

Here. What moves through. How it cuts, erases, changes, even embellishes. How it is also contained. By both inside and outside,like a dream. I suppose "home" is the thing that stands, has been standing here in so many posts. Home is a place but also a sense of place. Maybe even the sense of ownership of space that home provides. I'm thinking so fluidly this morning. It all seems just a sense of something.  How my sense of so many things has changed.

You know, how you know it's over even before it's over. Which is really just going. Continuing. With a sense of something. And how long it takes is not important.  It's not emotional, it is how it is. From your perspective.

I will work on Mo's pennant now. Although I do like it like this. It's ghostly form. Maybe love is simply a sense of something.

It rained all night. Gently. Eventually it stopped.

Eventually the sun will come out.