Celebrating today with Ruth Ayres and others who share.
I just finished reading posts for Poetry Friday, and need to share a part of one post with all of you. This excerpt from a shared poem connects to our celebrations, a new-to-me way of collecting beauty from our daily lives.
If a man in China can keep ten thousand dollars' worth
of caterpillars in a metal box underneath his bed
for medicine, then I want to collect flakes of light
for those winter months where we go a whole week
without seeing a slice of sun. The light I want to collect
is free. Can't be sold as a cure for muscle ache
or to ward off evil eye. I write this in August. It should be
illegal to talk about snow in Western New York now.
from The Light I Collect by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
of caterpillars in a metal box underneath his bed
for medicine, then I want to collect flakes of light
for those winter months where we go a whole week
without seeing a slice of sun. The light I want to collect
is free. Can't be sold as a cure for muscle ache
or to ward off evil eye. I write this in August. It should be
illegal to talk about snow in Western New York now.
from The Light I Collect by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
My 'flakes of light' brighten my world.
Spending time
— with Imogene, and having her read to me. She's just beginning and is having a wonderful time looking at all the books she's loved before, but now, can read them herself!
— with Ingrid, sewing pillows for Imogene and herself. She's learning all about the sewing machine, how to fill a bobbin, thread the machine, push on the pedal just enough. She has been hand-sewing for a few years, now is making the tiniest stitches.
— reading. There are so many wonderful books, new and old. I just re-read To Kill A Mockingbird. It is still one that both warms and breaks your heart.
— noticing! Remember that I have a garden that grows "outside" my own fence, the one where I madly fight the bindweed? Also, I continue to share that we need rain or snow, are so, so dry. It's a season of "brown". But a day or so ago I looked out at this garden, and some of the bushes have grown green sprouts, a beautiful green topping!
— fixing! My front door latch stopped working. I swabbed a little WD-40 into it, and it can now open again!
— writing! For a friend's birthday celebration, I joined her February challenge in a closed FB group and wrote a poem a day. From the warm-up to the wind-down, that meant 43 poems! It is a habit to write every day, but not always a poem. I'm pleased that I did it!
I'm wishing you your own discoveries of "flakes of light" this week!
photo credit: Alexey Kljatov (ChaoticMind75) Snowflake macro: ice dust via photopin (license)