Possibilities

They take root on a morning walk,

at a desk in a small corner of a house

or at 10,000 feet,

a cloud carpet just outside the window.

On a Tuesday night, a Thursday afternoon

and those first few minutes of a new year.

Is that what draws us to it, this annual rite?

Again and again, year after year,

the new day,

the empty-ish slate,

the who-knows-what-might-be-possible.


http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/01/opinion/the-new-year-within.html?ref=opinion&_r=0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ja61fxmY77Q&feature=youtube_gdata_player

A New Year

Resolutions

Some years I've written a whole notebook page full of New Year's resolutions.
Lately, I'm thinking that's a little much.

Last year I didn't bother to write even one resolution, didn't get swept into New Year's Eve but that didn't seem quite right. I like a hubbub and a reason to say 'hip, hip' and a kind of loud 'hooray.' I like the promise of the next 365 days, all those chances.

So this year I have one resolution.
Worry less.

I like the sound of that kind of 2014. When the worries stop by, I'll gently push them off and
let them flutter somewhere else, away.

Cartwheeling on a breeze

There were hundreds of them, starlings perhaps or sparrows, cavorting and cartwheeling on the winter wind. Up and over the trees they swooped, chattering and singing.

 For a moment, I thought I heard them laughing.

Alight too

Along Main Street

Someone once said the two best words in the English language are 'summer day.'

I would have to agree but would also cast a vote for 'road trip,' for all the wonders and oddities you stumble upon along the way.

In Central Park

In Central Park yesterday, I could have just walked bench to bench, reading each of the small plates fastened to the backs of the benches, in memory of a loved one, in celebration of another, others honoring and recalling the hours and days spent seated there, watching people and life spill past. 

Instead, we walked all over the park and took in the stark beauty of the leaf-less trees, the revelers, the dog walkers, the sax player, the plastic bucket drummers, the city just outside its borders. Still I couldn't resist "reading a bench or two." And spotted this one, a toast to Ginger and Arthur and "70 miraculous years" of marriage. 

I thought of who they might have been when they first made that promise; how young they likely were to be making such a vow: I will be with you through all of it, everything that life gives. 

I imagined the laughter, the shared aches, the whispers, the dreams and conversations across a kitchen table and 70 years! 

And right next to it was this plaque:

As I walked past I wished them that same happy miracle.

12/14

On December 14 

http://wnpr.org/post/simple-solemn-tribute-sandy-hook-victims?utm_referrer=http%3A//m.wnpr.org/%3Futm_referrer%3D%23mobile/13664

Looking down

Sidewalk art: 

Remnants of the morning frost left an imprint as pretty as any fabric design.