I'm hanging up this blog, to start the new year off. Posting here without Traci would be like flying in a circle, and here we all are, mid-hurtle toward new starts, all wide awake and excited. We're both still around, and hope to see you. And thanks.
Someone said my name in the garden,
while I grew smaller
in the spreading shadow of the peonies,
grew larger by my absence to another,
grew older among the ants, ancient
under the opening heads of the flowers,
new to myself, and stranger.
When I heard my name again, it sounded far,
like the name of the child next door,
or a favorite cousin visiting for the summer,
while the quiet seemed my true name,
a near and inaudible singing
born of hidden ground.
Quiet to quiet, I called back.
And the birds declared my whereabouts all morning.