a single bloom
a sliver of moon
a wish, not yet made
Rest
I think my favorite part of summer is the laziness. Somehow when the weather gets just exactly hot enough most of life’s seemingly pressing issues just sort of fade. They say time moves slower in the South, but summer is when I notice it. Where once there was a busy schedule and a long to-do list, there suddenly exists the space for wonder, and for rest.
You Could Make This Place Beautiful
I have this rule; when something - a book, documentary, podcast, idea, theory, etc - shows up in my life in three different, unrelated places, I take it as a sign. It’s in this way that I found poet Maggie Smith. (I know, I’m a little late to the party on this one.)
On a podcast with Kate Bowler I heard Maggie read her poem Good Bones. Afterwards I sobbed for ten minutes. Her words express perfectly where I spend my days.