thanks for the share,
but only one word's what ya got there! and it ain't so easy for me, [quite candidly]. its far more steps, to focus my lens to rep, all the peeps I know or the places I'll go, the books to be read and marathon threads, the laughs and tears, the groans and cheers - how can I light this all up in one word? the days and nights, still to go. the after-school shows. the courses not run. the in-class fun. the pd, the dpa, and curriculum. the talking, the listening, and pushing the system. blending They into We, oh and equity seems to stall my New Year's commitment. So, in choosing my word I'll take two, not one. And I hope that you'll see where I'm going. unexpected expectations are expected everyday, so choosing without ever really knowing between left and right, up and down kept up with a smile, sometimes a frown, not lowest or highest leftest or rightest bestest or worstest lastest or firstest. trouble is that I have two-one words that fit and no extremes will explain my mindset best other than I'm happy being an okayist, who's also okayest. not the greatest or leastest not famined or feastest not flying or falling not running or stalling the between the middle fits me like a fiddle So I choose the hub, the core. Cause I grow best. I crave the balance. Where we connect even more. now when we all run the middle no farther [did I mention fiddle?] and stand at center, as one. if we all see each other on the line of best fit since outlying is really no fun. and if you are wondering how I came to this consider the challenge of finding the balance of an okayest okayist. seriously?! it ain't easy. one way or other below or above ya with or without sure or in doubt [sorry if I shout], rain or clear weather we are best when we stand here together. with many words, not just one.
the edges lay
grey and pilled, woolen - silent folded arms embrace around the worn copper zipper. my father lived in this sweater, he stretched and read and smoked. he held me loved my mom drank coffee and paid taxes. it used to smell of ash and paper from backyard nights with a lit cigarette - him staring out at lost stars and distant children. now with him gone, long after I left him, he is here, curled on my bed.
there's no bite
or scratch here. no trolls or tolls either. your point, clicked and found a piece of peace. followed or found, I appreciate your time and your mind. so now send this post out into space and expect that someone likes it.