Dreaming the Sun
Standing in the moon
I am dreaming the sun
spinning straw into gold
razor-fine filaments
of hope,
of longing
too tightly stranded
to bear the pull
of wanting
I am dreaming the sun
spinning straw into gold
razor-fine filaments
of hope,
of longing
too tightly stranded
to bear the pull
of wanting
In this year of 2012, a time of great change, many of us have ended a period in our lives and are awaiting our next step. Mine has arrived! In April, my husband and I moved to a new home, Northport, Michigan. We are living on a twenty-acre farm, on the Leelanau Peninsula, which stretches out into Lake Michigan.
I loved the intensity of my twenty five years in the California Bay Area. I now look forward to a quieter time in my life that will include a great deal of writing! It will also include snow and a wood stove, neither of which are new to me as I spent the first thirty years of my life in a small New England town. I remember the cold! I also remember the white, weighted silence of snow and the other-worldliness of the night forest.
When I'm not writing I'll be sewing or perhaps dancing barefoot beneath the moon!
Marie Elena, April 2012
I loved the intensity of my twenty five years in the California Bay Area. I now look forward to a quieter time in my life that will include a great deal of writing! It will also include snow and a wood stove, neither of which are new to me as I spent the first thirty years of my life in a small New England town. I remember the cold! I also remember the white, weighted silence of snow and the other-worldliness of the night forest.
When I'm not writing I'll be sewing or perhaps dancing barefoot beneath the moon!
Marie Elena, April 2012