blackbirds on green
the pictures, they’re the only thing that seem to fit just right. that’s why i keep taking them.
i spend an embarrassing amount of the rest of my time working, thinking about aging, folding laundry, pining, and trying NOT to eat as many cookies as i think i need. i am reading a book and watching a series, but they’re not the kinds of things that feed me. and they sure as hell don’t feel like this photo feels. the brilliant green. the sun shining through the blackbirds’ wings. the fuzzy landscape. the poetry. it’s the poetry i can’t get enough of.
where do you find the poetry? or whatever it is that fills you up? and what do you do when you can’t even identify what it is you need?
gotta get outta here