The Distillery

It was a long road to get there
full of switchbacks, speed bumps, dead-ends
the weary traveler enters in
and a rough look on my face,
torn jeans, dirty boots,
but I think I found the place.

Lush valley full of echoes
and a fog that settles in.

You danced on soft worn floors
I sat near the side,
a flowered cotton dress
on such a grey-eyed mess
I knew I was in for a ride.

Down at the distillery
At the bottom of the hill
The fires still burn brightly
But the candle never will

Balance and swing,
a gypsy’s call to souls
a rush of color blurred by flight
Later I ran to greet you,
carrying elderberry wine
and my shining eyes
caught yours winking in the light.
That courting candle, could it burn bright?

That creek was cold and clear
My bare feet flat on rocks
I let waterfalls rush over me
and never thought of fear.

Lush valley full of echoes
and a fog that settles in.

Down at the distillery
At the bottom of the hill
The fires still burn brightly
But the candle never will

And the still’s cold tin walls
press on my skin.
Volumes of our time,
this filter I am in
pure sweet taste
down to one bitter drop
swallow it now and be done.

Two sentences on paper
An ocean behind us,
a desert ahead,
one candle wick cold
cheap wine and rye whiskey
was all that was ever made.

Spring cleaning

It's still *officially* winter here in NH, snow is still on the ground, but the cold days are now interspersed with warmer sunshine and chirping birds. I have my annual spring head cold, so it must soon be spring. And so, time for spring cleaning, of sorts.

This year, it involves emotional cleansing. Detox, cleanse, purify.

I am dealing with two very painful matters right now, and I'm proud to say I took a hard-line stance on both. One, a professional matter from graduate school in which my work was published without my knowledge. I took steps to remain professional and yet I put my foot down. The other, I managed my first true "break-up" of sorts in pure civility. It hurts really badly. But it was the most humane thing I could have done.

While I am proud I took these steps, and I stand by my decisions, it does not make the detox process any less painful. Kinda like drinking some awful smoothie made of raw green vegetables and some unmentionable liquids. You know it's gonna wipe out everything in your system, and it's gonna totally be miserable, but it'll clean everything out and allow you to improve faster.

Life isn't all donuts and coffee, unfortunately.

Confucious was a smart guy

"By three methods we may learn wisdom:
first, by reflection, which is noblest;
second, by imitation, which is easiest;
and third, by experience, which is the bitterest."

Departures

As we entwine more deeply,
your forearm snaked around my left elbow and wrist,
the soft sheets threaten to hold us in place
like butterflies pinned to cork by their fragile wings.

Tears ease a path to my pillow and your palm,
seeking a pool already soaked into cotton,
but your breath melts my shoulder and
steeps my spine in acceptance.

I think about the meaning behind your words.
You speak off-the-cuff, tactless and immediate.
Blunt butter knife that leaves me bleeding so slightly.
What am I to believe? You misspoke.
Or that you meant every quick comment.

I sometimes wonder why I beg you.
Please tell me something sweet. Remind me that you care.
Why do I ask? Only two months ago I never thought to.
I never had to. You were glad to share happiness.

I call you handsome. You call me a grouch.
And our recent phone call was destiny, it seems.
My tears elicited your anger
and I sometimes realize this is unhealthy.
I’m amazed I don’t realize this more often.
I wish the metal rose would wilt,
hammered petals falling with my hopes.

But then I would have to admit
my assessment of you was incorrect.
Off by more than a mile.
Wiping the slate clean of my chalk scribbles
That I once considered handsome.

Fly

Sometimes, what we think we want we really don't. How many years until the healing begins and we learn from our patterns and truly discover ourselves? How can the mind fool us so terribly? How can our hearts mislead us to such dark corners?

I have not yet found the beauty in just letting go. It still just seems awful, painful, scary and unwanted. In that vein, the slightly comforting and motivational lyrics to "Fly."

Ain't no talkin' to this man
Ain't no pretty other side
Ain't no way to understand
the stupid words of pride
It would take an acrobat
and I already tried all that
I'm gonna let him fly

Things can move at such a pace
The second hand just waved goodbye
You know the light has left his face
But you can't recall just where or why
So there was really nothing to it
I just went and cut right through it
I said I'm gonna let him fly
Oh yeah

There's no mercy in a live wire
No rest at all in freedom
Choices we are given
It's no choice at all
The proof is in the fire
You touch before it moves away - yeah
But you must always know
How long to stay and when to go

And there ain't no talkin' to this man
He's been trying to tell me so
It took a while to understand
The beauty of just letting go
Cause it would take an acrobat
I already tried all that
I'm gonna let him fly
I'm gonna let him fly
I'm gonna let him fly

Snap!

It was -12 degrees F this morning. My car did not want to start. My dog was shivering so badly she could hardly stand. My winter jacket, which was fully dry, somehow managed to freeze on the two-minute walk to get the paper at the end of the driveway.

I was just starting to enjoy winter...the flocked evergreen trees, the sparkly walkways, the icy maple tree branches, deep breaths of clean fresh cold air...and this morning, I could hardly breathe in because it actually hurt. My eyelashes froze.

I want to snap my fingers and have it be springtime. Or at least +20 degrees F. But this will help me appreciate the spring rains so much more, I suppose. And hot tea.

Peace and Quiet

I had an entirely different experience snowshoeing today than yesterday.

It was overcast and the trails were empty, no dog by my side. Just me and the snow weighing heavily on the tree branches. I reached a part of the trail where the branches were bent down, enclosing the trail at the top while the packed snow insulated the bottom. A lone raven called just once over my head, and a thin ribbon of icy water trickled below the trail. The whole scene was very cozy and intimate. I felt more at peace in that moment than just about any other moment I can remember, and for that I am grateful.