the blue muse

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the mercury glass forest

right next to

the fire

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dancing lights

and merry making

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i choose today

always

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hot tea

cold morning

warm lights

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waking up

to the sparkle of

december

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the sun makes the world sparkle this morning

a simple reminder of the beauty that runs through each day

crisp and cold, tiny leaves peaking up through hard earth

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we change we grow we turn our face to the sun

grateful for the warmth of it

glad to be alive

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wishing you a thanksgiving filled with warmth

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It’s hard to believe that it’s that time of year already…
but the holiday season is upon us!

This weekend we will be at the
45th Annual Holiday Bazaar Arts & Crafts Sale…
if you’re in the area, stop by and say hello!

Rochester Museum & Science Center,
500 University Ave., Rochester, NY 14607

Booth 112
Friday, November 20th • 5 p.m. – 9 p.m.
Saturday, November 21st• 9:30 a.m. – 5 p.m.
Sunday, November 22nd • 11 a.m. – 4 p.m.

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Everything gets lost in the shuffle sometimes, but lately the shuffle has taken over. Writing has gone by the wayside, and I find myself longing for old habits, empty hours, blank pages.

Life keeps getting crazier or I keep getting slower, or a wild combination of both.

My mind races and there are days when I can’t keep up. I walk outside for brief moments to inhale the smell of autumn, a season I’ve missed in the name of busyness.

This morning the smell of frost on the horizon drew me into the yard, hundreds of geese honking herald to the sun, a clear sky marked only by the low-hanging upside-down crescent of moon.

Crisp is the color and bird is the song. Survival is the vein that runs ‘neath my feet.

Leaves crackle and I think again how I must find time for raking.

The bluejay calls his warning and another day begins.

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Christmas colors in one corner of my garden.

But I’m not even ready to think about it, even if the retail world is.

I’ve only just started to think about Thanksgiving.

Pumpkins and autumn and squash and gratitude.

Family and friends and togetherness.

A simple gathering of love.

Orange and brown and spice and wheat.

Time to cook and talk and appreciate

each other, life, blessings.

I’m keeping November right there, where it belongs.

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november skies and leaves in flight

life that swirls and words that wait

this dance i do through autumn’s gate

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