Prosaic, Poetic Peace, llvl

Peace is in the little things, the little moments. We had one of those moments last night. A quiet time with friends, gathered around a table feasting on late summer bounty and later gathered around a living room feasting on our companions’ words.

Oh, I was grateful to be included in this group of wordsmiths, grateful that my words claimed their own space, different, but clear. And grateful that I live somewhere where spontaneously people will gather to say what they believe in stately measures while others will listen and gasp and nod. Is there more that we can ask than the sweet magic of every extraordinary day.

Today I spoke to two artists at the coffee shop, women who immerse themselves in textiles, opening up both pattern and sensuality to those of us who find it in words… or somewhere else.

This is everywhere… but it’s so apparent here, because there’s more space between the people. You can see more easily what someone else is up to. It’s not always a beautiful sight, but it so, so, so often is. Peace in words. Peace in silk. Peace in sweet companionship.


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