Between Creating: Ode to Max

In The space between creating–

NOT my special place to be

It’s full of sad and “arms are empty”

listless, flat and empty . . .

ennui

He gave me purpose

when I felt alone and useless looking for another place to anchor life.

How can smalls be so large when

large things are empty

and ceased to care or be the part of what they are to me

the smalls are nice and good and kind except for Maxie Boy bit mine

when I would try to interfere

with some imagined slight I might have messed with sense of self

I do not know

a thing so small can bring such joy and join me to the call of love I cannot feel when all else fails I want to feel

loved

and loving is so easy with a small and feisty soul whose garrulousness behold

said not a word against me no,

but a bite, or two, would work for “no”.

I think a bite is much preferred to words or silences of hate–a bite–yes there’s an antidote for that.

But where’s the salve for punctured hearts and lonely souls????

 

Piddling, Dreaming, Biking, Chatting, Eating

Yesterday I took the day off from blogging.

I suspect that the most valuable and full of wonder things happen for us on days when we feel least productive, least focused, least intent on making the world a better place-hah!–days of resting, dreaming, piddling, chatting, biking, eating, and so on and so on. All of which I did yesterday.

In my dream state I decided what story I will write for you next week: It’s called

“Fuzz L Furr and Why I Paint.”

It’s a pretty, pretty good little story about a kitty we used to have back in the day–sort of–we sort of had him–he sort of had us–by the name of Fuzz L. Furr and how good ole Fuzz inspires me to paint.

No picture of Fuzz L. Sorry, he was camera shy.

Hugs, Margaret

Guess what? I wasted so much time today I didn’t finish my blog post

Yesterday  I took the day off from blogging.

I suspect that the most valuable and full of wonder things happen for us are on the days when we feel the least productive, least focused, least intent on making the world a better place-hah!–days of resting, dreaming, piddling, chatting, biking, eating, and so on and so on.  All of which I did yesterday.

In my dream state I decided what story I will write for you next week:  It’s  called

“Fuzz L Furr and Why I Paint.”

It’s a pretty, pretty  good little story about a kitty we used to have back in the day–sort of–we sort of had him–he sort of had us–by the name of Fuzz L. Furr and how good ole Fuzz inspires me to paint.

No picture of Fuzz L.  Sorry, he was camera shy.

Hugs, Margaret