Monday, March 10, 2025

Some days the words don’t come. 
You rummage through the junk
drawer of your brain and only 
pull out old corks and little bits 
of string, a faded rubber band 
one use from snapping and leaving
your thumb stinging, a dull pencil
with the long forgotten name of a
failed town council candidate and
a rock hard eraser. Some days the
connections don’t click, a random
hand of cards that don’t match. But 
some days you pick up a pair, nines
that were always meant to meet, a 
diamond and a heart. Some days 
beauty pops like sweet tart 
sparkling wine and strings together 
like plump carnation heads, holds
fast like fingers around a bouquet 
or a wrist or ring. Some days soften
us and etch themselves into our
memories, never to be erased.

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love notes
a ritual to start the week