Just a little disappointed this morning. I thought I heard an owl, but it was most likely a mourning dove. Silly expectations. It’s absurd that I would consider the owl’s call romantically haunting and the mourning dove’s annoying. I’m carrying all kinds of biases, and an unearned admiration for the rare.

There was a truck parked on the walking path in the park this morning. That was rare. And annoying. But I am loving these clear sky morning walks. I’m trying to remember what the physical therapist has said about keeping my spine in the center of my body and let my shoulders fall into place. I’m trying to trust that my bones know their places. To give up the illusion of control.

Like the undulations of worms and the pulsing of stars
My body is a suspension bridge
spanning manifestation and potential
Foundations move
in slow arcs reaching
backward for the new
Always singing through the tension

The moon begins a new phase tonight. What staggered, tripping beginnings this year. Stumbling into – or out of – I suppose. Kicking off the mud and the snow and wiping my boots on the rug. Finally a good night’s sleep! How that can feel like shaking snow off a coat and hanging it on the rack – ready to roll up my sleeves.