Thursday, June 13, 2013


We settle into the comfort of the familiar- a cherished woolen blanket
passed down from my mother's mother to me.
The routine of our day lulls us to sleep in the rocking chair
Papa carved from cedar wood. 
His hands strong and sure and spotted from the sun.

We can rest in this moment-forget the lessons from our past

tied up in the loosely bound paperbacks of the attic.
Then surrender completely
to the uncertainty of tomorrow's
new day.


Denise | Chez Danisse said...


Rachael | The Slow-Cooked Sentence said...

Love this ... forget the lessons from our past/tied up in the loosely bound paperbacks of the attic

And I must ask if this is your yarn from your bag of wool?

the Lady said...

Thank you, Ladies.

And to Rachael:
Nope. That bag of Romney wool is currently at the mill being processed. Yay!