Saturday 12/17/2011
Moving day. 8:30 a.m. and I have time enough for tea, time enough for love.
Sipping the tea from my to-go mug (all the china is packed). Laptop laboring away with its asthmatic fan. Surrounded by boxes, and still my house has its elements of humanity. The plants. The Chinese fan, the bodhran, and the calendar still hanging on the wall. Most of other the artwork bubble-wrapped and stacked.
Stop. Breathe. Feet on the floor. Be present.
And the day begins with the eleventh step.
tended by poet Frances Donovan
Garden of Words 