Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity


The year feels aged yet spry in October. An unapologetically sharp cheese, it’s been around awhile and packs a punch.

My mind always dives eagerly into leaf-piles as Halloween approaches. Childhood costumes, lovingly handmade, worn crunching through maple discards. High school shenanigans on playgrounds after dark. My first autumn of college, watching absurdly awful horror flicks far past midnight, the man who would become my husband tugging my leg as it dangled off the top bunk in an attempt to maximize the movie’s affect. Scuffing through Harvard Square with my head pounding out a complex rhythmic counterpoint to my footsteps. Counting cats with my wee little firstborn Owlet as we took our routine twilight walks.

It is strange and lovely to summon those ghosts in their exuberant youth and stretch the ribbons of their lives from there to here, where I sit, gratuitously treasuring my choice of life partner in haiku:

Love, I would know you
In a crowd of a million
From your steady heart

Your capable hands
In music and in woodcraft
Equally well versed

Your mischievous laugh
Igniting the brightest blue
Starlight of your eyes.

Thor just finished building me these surpassingly amazing benches for my teaching studio. Aren’t they lovely?


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