Dried white saltwater lies on the windscreen like stretchmarks. And so the labour of summer days is revealed. As we drive home, I look through the water at the long bright road, and I think about all the ways we birth this world into being. The choices we make, in innocence or with a recklessness we later try to excuse as someone else's fault. The striving, and the faltering strength which must be gathered again and again. The importance of right breathing.
We are the mother of our days.
Hmmm....you always make me think. I like that phrase, "the mother of our days"
ReplyDeleteand you are always so gracious, the way you leave such kind comments, always finding something positive and encouraging to say.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful!
ReplyDeleteyou ae so kind :-)
Deletegorgeous imagery...and such beautiful and, dare i say it, deliciously dangerous thoughts -- that we hold the care and creation of our days in our hearts...
ReplyDeleteyou inspire me to care deeply for this day, when normally it is something of a dreaded necessity to be simply Got Through.
xo
I hope your day was wonderful mel.
ReplyDeleteI, too, like your phrase...so much.
ReplyDelete