Friday, January 22, 2010


...and she and I,
breathless and lifted and
hand in hand through the snow
sang at the height of our hearts
"We Shall Overcome" remembrance of Martin Luther, but I think also for ourselves.
There is a turning point, I think, in the infancy of a friendship, when things get bloom into something deeper and more profound...and though I don't call as much as I probably should, I think of her each and every day.
There are little crinkles around her light colored eyes and curls of baby hair buds at the roots of her dreads, that beckon a little twist every now and again as I read my favorite poems by Mary Oliver and we nod at one anothers' revelations...and marvel at the teas that bloom in the steaming water with the rising scent of jasmine in the room.
I marvel as I think of the happenstance day we met... when I gathered my courage and asked her what she was "doing here" in her vintage vest and dreads and holy my desperation to connect, I found a lifelong friend.
We shall
My dearest curmudgeon.

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