I can't sleep…
~ Read more @ What Waking Up At Different Times Of Night Means, According To Chinese Medicine (via Liftupstory)
Photo:luci d’inverno with Untitled
There are no birds or anything, or none that I can see. I imagine what it must be like to stay hidden, disappear in the dusky nothing and stay still in the night. It’s not sadness, though it may sound like it. I’m thinking about people and trees and how I wish I could be silent more, be more tree than anything else, less clumsy and loud, less crow, more cool white pine, and how it’s hard not to always want something else, not just to let the savage grass grow.
~ Ada Limón, “Mowing,” from Bright Dead Things: Poems
Photo: (via Hidden Sanctuary)
Here is what I love about the brain:
How it remembers.
How it sews what soft it can
into a blanket for the nights
when I am cold with trouble.
~ Sean Patrick Mulroy, from “The Offering” in Tap Lit Mag (Fall/Winter 2016)
Notes:
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon’s young, trying
Their wings. […]
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.
— James Wright, Beginning, Above the River: The Complete Poems
Credits: Photo: HJK Photography with Under the Harvest Moon; Quotes: nemophilies
Notes: