Summer Solstice. prayer. blessing. dream.

Last night, I woke, as I often do these days,
no longer drenched, but misted,
with a fine release–of attachment, I suppose.
Behind my knees and under my
shoulders and also between my breasts;
and lately even, in the crook of my
arms, as if I’ve been carrying too much;
and just this week, tiny beads of sweat, dripping.
down. my. spine.
Refining, I suppose,
Me.
Only this night,
Solstice Eve,
I remain awake, and feel something
more–a lightening inside–so very light–
my bones–that i think to myself…

So this is what it is be a bird.

(Bird Egg Feather Nest, Maryjo Koch)
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Pursuing, a guest post

Shannon Herrick.

For the enforced moments of pause.
In line.
In traffic.
At the piano lesson.

Especially for the waiting that is too short a time to dive into more than a row or two of knitting, but long enough for the brain to move from idleness to pursuing.

It’s when the magic happens.

In snippets of time that feel deliciously stolen from boredom.

~Shannon Herrick
#31daysofgratitude
Day 7: waiting