cumulus thoughts blown about by cold gusts

Wiener dog comes around the corner, busily sniffing. No leash, no owner in sight. Then giant golden retriever, then husky puppy with the biggest clear-blue eyes.

Man bikes by with a tuba in his backpack.

School bus full of Jewish children, heads shaved except for exquisite fringe curls. All eyes looking out the right windows as the bus makes a tight-squeeze turn onto a one-way street.

Just noticing that leaf-crunch and then caught the smell- I have been missing the peak of days where the leaves, warmed by the high sun's rays are projecting that scent that just fills me up. Through the nostrils straight to the stomach, and I could choke on it for how filling it can be all at once.

Feeling some nothingness sneak up on me, and though I've been anticipating it, it still has come as a surprise somehow. I am getting acquainted with readjustment, and all that strangeness that accompanies so much change.

Remembering again, a plethora of old thoughts that still kick and claw at me.
How restlessness can lead to recklessness. Lying in the dark curled up, you tapping out the rhythm of Born to Run on my thigh. Falling asleep to Court and Spark, hearing everything like it were new to me. Dreamed about you like I didn't know you, felt like a stranger in the morning- strange light shining on a strange bed.
Plucked a petal from a poppy, wanted to hold on to such a soft and pretty thing. Only found it withered up in my pocket later, unrecognizable.
Thinking about birds sitting atop of strange things. "Smiling strangers riding by on bikes".
Remembered a dead sea gull, ivory belly bloated, tucked into the curb of Sykes St., eyes closed.
"I am a thorn among a bunch of roses", said the old man as he squeezed through our little group as we stood in the lobby of the Peller Estates winery. Maggie rolls her eyes, and then immediately wonders about being gracious, or just accepting the words that people sometimes offer. I wonder the same. Why am I so doubtful? I am so distrustful of everyone sometimes. Sometimes I think that I would only believe the worst in you, never just allow you to be your best self because I would find a way to dissect it, find a hole and pull it open wider. That's awful, and I'm sorry.
I wonder about everything but never seem to endeavor to get to the bottom of anything. Can never be sure what is missing, but something is. I can't blame demons for my attitude, but sometimes I like to.
Feel so useless. More like directionless, you offer. Maybe both. Need to find out in which direction I can put myself to use.
Today is a whole day in itself. Not a stepping stone to some day ahead, not one thing only, but everything all of the time. A day is an amazing thing. Thinking about a good day, a full day, and all the ways in which a day can be filled. Now how can I let a day sit empty, never put it to real use? A day can be filled to the brim! I have been sitting through too many days lately.
Need to spend more time treasuring and cherishing. A treasure box full of old things which tend to mean a lot. Ripe cucumber, pulling little carrots from the garden. Margarine container full of backyard black currants, red currants. Tea and crickets and dew and desire and adventure and longing and leaving and coming home. Someone please stay awake with me!

But my scatterbrain scatters it all again, and I am just here. 8pm coffee, 'Blue', a purring Mooz, warm lamplight, promise of good company and cheap wine. Sorting everything out.
I am thankful, I am! There is so much that I have and I love and I know this. I am going to practice graciousness. Thank the universe for everything, every thing, everything.

fall ravel

Oh September, you came and you left.
It's the first day of October. The kind of fall that is rich and full, rusty leaf-hues, crunchy on the ground, air-born in the breezes. Like a flick of a light-switch, that change from summer. I almost forgot about fall, but now I feel a bit bombarded by the way it so fully asserts itself.
I am moving on Sunday morning to a brand new place, somewhere that I have been thinking about for a long time. As much as I let my mind wander around the potential of what's going to happen, I feel pretty sure that I don't know and can't know until I arrive. So I just feel this little tangle in my belly, that twists and pulls tighter when I move certain ways. I think if I make myself productive and just keep looking at what is still here, then surely I will soon be over there and then there will be no more wondering, just plain being. And I am so excited for that just being, taking myself off this trajectory. Like putting on a blindfold and spinning before taking a step. I don't think it actually matters in which direction I step, I want to let my feelings prompt me and see where that leads me.
If you have a wandering mind that wonders too, and you roll around potential futures, then maybe we can manifest some thought, share a cup of tea in a sunny living room, maybe it will be winter then, another switch gone through?
There is so much that I was to ravel/unravel. So much that I want to write down and turn into something tangible. So many images in my head that I want to see painted, made into the kind of colours you can look at twice.