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polski (Polish)
Colorful lights on the Christmas tree are breathing. Tap water drips in the silence. Under the warm yellow light from the lamp, dust shines instead of snow. I haven’t posted anything on the blog for a long time, but I really wanted to be offline without fitting into any templates. It grew as easy in me as un-shaved eyebrows. And I like it.
On the island, December can be gray and wet, but some colors persist regardless of the weather, like the turquoise ocean and cozy brown rocks on Glassilaun beach. Its space fills my heart endlessly.
I jump below the transparent stream and climb the rocks. The seaweed looks like little khaki Christmas trees or giant yellow beans. I lean down and pick up flat pink pebbles and graphite shells.
Always discover something different here. Even the well-known road from Maan Cross is still a winding route into an unknown fairy-tale land. The end of December has something magical about it, and I’m glad to spend this time in slow down, sipping ginger tea with chokeberry juice with a cat on my lap, writing poems, and wandering in the sand. No plans for what to do next, because what I like the most is when the road leads me.
Your first paragraph is stunning, a hook that leads me into your private moment of being so very open to your senses. You are also a wondrous guide to quiet contemplation and forming your own template, made of free forms like seaweed, clouds, and purrs of cats in laps.
Sharon, thanks a million for such a big compliment. I am glad that you could feel what I want to pass in this short story. Especially that I still try to pass poetry etc in foregoing language which I still learn. 🙂 🙂
I definitely felt it! And thank you for the email. I will reply via “snail mail” (or passenger pigeon?) with a homemade card. As always, you inspire! Happy New Year!