Tag Archives: caring

forty four years – January 10

Posted on January 12, 2014 by landl30

  1.10.2014 forty four years, vows taken. Peter’s line through hands lain on. voices, eyes, empty moments, opened then to what will come.   fortyfouryears run together as if a path lain out like string, winding, straggling, stumbling forward to … Continue reading →

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christmas envelopes – December 14

Posted on December 15, 2013 by landl30

12.14 writing names on christmas envelopes, faces, families emerging to affect my choice of card.   not all the same, the couple, the baby, indian wise men from afar, telling of hopes and fears, friends past and now.   to … Continue reading →

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puppy love – October 3

Posted on October 4, 2013 by landl30

10.3 puppy shows up to be fed with a friend. hungry strays telling each other where to find a meal.   maybe Jesus-dog taught her from that place where canines know things they only hint to us in wags.   … Continue reading →

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blip, he moved – August 24

Posted on August 24, 2013 by landl30

8.24 blip, he moved. or she. tiny frog in the maw of my mower.   his life is in your hands the voice said. so I move carefully.   it’s only a lawn, weeds scruff, things to be taken down … Continue reading →

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we do what we need to do – May 14

Posted on May 10, 2013 by landl30

5.14 Weathered hands, mid calf deep in the water. Placerville, panning, keening at stream silt edges for a glimpse of gold. A flake, a niggly pebble that might show a flash. Day after day, all day, screening through ones fingers … Continue reading →

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she looks tired – May 13

Posted on May 10, 2013 by landl30

5.13 She looks tired, the weary weight of new work, new kitchen and old boy leaving the nest, is more freight than a soul can bear as toll.   Stress feels so strong that we can’t talk about it.  As … Continue reading →

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he’s washing the dishes – April 23

Posted on April 23, 2013 by landl30

4.21 he’s washing the dishes. a man shouldn’t do that. it’s embarrassing. the other kid’s dad’s don’t. it’s women’s work. I hide my head.   I stand at the sink now years later and see my mother’s hands raw, cracked, … Continue reading →

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