Becky Spence

Another day. We'll wait for another day. When the sun doesn't hurt, when the tears don't choke, when you are here once more. We'll open the curtains, feel the light. Smile together. Please. An impossible dream. An empty hope. Your laughter gone. I sit alone and fade. #vss365

“I am so sad and everything is beautiful.” — Mark Nepo . . . This poem appeared in Inside the Miracle: Enduring Suffering, Approaching Wholeness by Mark Nepo, published by Sounds True, 2016. Shared here with deep gratitude.

• "The rain began again. It fell gently, silently, as if it were afraid of disturbing the peace of the world." — Haruki Murakami

plum blossoms at sunrise over the old pond Basho

Good cat...

Blossom buds on the apple tree, fresh cut grass in the air. A bumble bee zig zags through the garden, a ladybird lands on my skin. I lay here, in the April sun, eyes closed, face warm. Cast a spell, a trickery, let the scent of better days drift in. Pretend, I'm ok. #vss365

The announcement of a new book by Susanna Clarke is always thrilling

when sylvia plath wrote ‘please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. there are times when i will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand’ I felt that

There's a small stool in my kitchen I climb on. Only 12 inches from the floor. It raises me up, lifts me high, fills me when I'm running empty. Like a suburban investiture. I stand tall. Breathe deep. Survey my world. Just me. Me. On my own. #vss365

Manchester buildings are good...

Good door...

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

@BrooksiesBooks Thank you.

@bex_spence Absolutely GORGEOUS, Becky!

I pull my coat tighter as I walk into the fog over the pier, seafoam whispers to the rocks. The salty fret touches my lips, and a secret is shared. My heart pounds, stomach turns, fingers reach out. To something, someone from long ago. #vss365

Mary Oliver, from "Such Singing in the Wild Branches"

Good door...

Good windows...

Paul Klee Moonrise | 1925

Across the way, there's a walk, a familiar loop. The trail one I've seen in a symphony of seasons. As the first snow drops sprout, spring blossom bouquets, a rabbit bounds, birds sing. I pick myself up, step out of the house. Onto the path, that feels like home. #vss365

― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

I listen, as wind chimes sing. Rain falls and the song gets louder. Talking over the roll, the run, the rumble of the day. Old ladies who natter, friends who hold on year after year, the echo of children laughing. And for a moment, a split second, I'm sure I'm not alone. #vss365