Friday, April 27, 2012

Loose Ends

What do you do when you don't know what to do with yourself?  Me?  I go out and see what comes my way--see as I walk.  The sun was brilliant but the wind was too fierce to sit and gaze.  Every cloud is perfect.  (Storm clouds are perfect, too.  No one complains about the shape of a cloud.)

And lilacs deliver on all their promises.

The shell of a tree sprouts suckers.

There is a memorial for the girl who drowned herself last week.  You can't see how drops of moisture have condensed behind the glass that covers her picture.  There is a little book in which one can write messages.  People have.  Brief letters addressed to her.    

Redwing black birds are back at the pond.


  1. Thanks for your glimpse of New England spring. The shoulder of that species is the red of blood. I can hear in my memory the buzzing trill of their territorial calls as they seek mates.

    The sadness of the girl is beyond any words I have.

  2. "What do you do when you don't know what to do with yourself?" What a line! It's a poem in itself.

    Did you write a message for the girl?

  3. Bluedog: the redwings were making that distinctive sound.

    Hello, Penal-Colony: I didn't write a message. My mind went blank and I hesitated, not about taking photos but about blogging, yet I did, because the girl's death seemed part of everything: the redwing, the lilacs, the perfect cloud.

  4. Difficult indeed to connect ones ends, ones life - difficult to see such young life having such difficulties and yet such courage to act in such a way.

    I mostly sit meself on the couch and start reading randomly pages of books.

  5. I look forward to another post about what you do when you don't know what to do with yourself. This was glorious. So much visual poetry in it. Many thanks.

    Greetings from London.

  6. dear mim,
    it's all of a piece, isnt it, the death of the girl and what we do when we don't know what to do with ourselves; and the comfort of the redwing blackbirds returning...
    your posts are always special.

  7. A moving post, Mim.

    No-one complains about the shape of a cloud - I do like that. And it is true.

  8. Hello, far-flung friends--

    all of one piece.