Art by Luis Beltran
We are love
We find those little ways to speak to each other
to say even with subtle gestures
what the other already knows.
A spark, even after twenty years, that, too,
makes life anew, sensual,
sexual in strange ways
the light in the morning
on pale skin…
a laugh and low talking.
I many times find it hard to believe
the wedding day wasn’t yesterday.
Yet I feel the sting of so many washed up years…
many good but washed with bleach
soft and gentle and there
full of wishes and dreams that are yet to come.
Is it too late to feel renewed, rejuvenated?
Feeling this makes a mid-aged life fresh and livable.
Full of desire and bright light and fresh green trees
like the ones trying to spark in spring
in the yard
beyond the mulch and parked cars
where the lawn keepers parked their lawn mowers.
This Wit has been down for a bit, literally, in more ways than one…but my esteem is coming back, and hopefully some “witicisms” along with it. Business with life sometimes
squashes inspiration, or, when one is more inclined, it actually does the opposite, and, so
I am trying.
Street style Spring 2013, Harpers Bazaar.com photo credit: Diego Zuko
Well, my Wit friends, it is hard to believe it is nearly the end of January, 2013… with resolutions firmly toasting on the back-burner. We are in a bitter cold slump here…but I have to say, I kind of like it. When I was a kid, winters were like this every year…lakes to skate on, snow to pile up and watch melt until June, snow days home from school watching all the soaps that we’d normally miss…So I welcome the chic cold…and look forward to spring and the emerald green to come…
I love this emerald green skirt above. I had one similar years ago…in a haunting cerulean color which I fitfully ruined during a Christmas dinner when a Braciole (a stuffed meat roll covered in red sauce) took a tumble from my plate and landed in my lap. Note: silk organza does not clean easily. 2nd note: wear an apron when eating Braciole.
Incredibly green is popular this season for nails…not my cup of tea unless it’s deep and dark and almost black…
and emerald green doors…