#AwakeAugust 31

just six more words:
then I can stop paying attention.

© nan p. 

[Just kidding with this little play on words/small stones! I have really enjoyed the structure of a daily writing practice this month -- paying proper attention and trying to polish a moment into a small stone poem. With any luck, I am in a better habit than I had been, and I hope to write a few words here more often than I had in recent months.]

#AwakeAugust 30

headlights cut through thick white fog --
tiny water droplets shrouding vision.
drivers anticipate the return of the cloud
to the sky.

© nan p. 

#AwakeAugust 29

diamond light drumming
fuels me on the drive to work--
partly cloudy with slight chance of rain

© nan p.

[Dedicated to Spencer/ Tweedy. Thanks.]

#AwakeAugust 28

fall allergens fill humid late-August air --
full head, scratchy throat
and heavy eyelids blinking . . .

I wait for
Benadryl relief.

© nan p.

[Not my favorite body-feeling. This is like a mild hangover, and I am drowsy with a beautiful day outside.]

#AwakeAugust 27

it's a bitter love --
hot french roast in the morning.

© nan p. 

#AwakeAugust 26

tapping into emotions of others --
makes me alive
makes me tired

© nan p. 

#AwakeAugust 25

before the storm
green trees in the foreground are a darker shade of green
green hills in the background look gunmetal gray
gray-blue cloud cover batting spreads full the sky
-- in some places narrow stretches of yellow-gold light
try to break through.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 24

tired eyes
reading article
on sleep deprivation
and what to do about it.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 22

breezes rustle oak leaves
and gently singing wind chimes --
I sit in the sun on the deck
after work
savoring end-of-summer perfection
and trying to keep other worries
on the shelf.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 21

opening all the windows
to let in cooling, humid breezes
before a day of rain
begins.


© nan p. 

#AwakeAugust 20

holding the canoe paddle perfectly still --
we glide right by the perfectly still
green heron.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 19

my child, recently 18
goes into the doctor alone --
a legal adult.

© nan p. 

#AwakeAugust 18

walking on cracked sidewalks
kid rhymes and rhythms in my head.


© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 17

this body's reaction

to stress: 

the light in my eyes

dims a bit

under the constant

awareness

of a pain down my neck.

© nan p.

[Trying to be mindful of the dull ache and sharp pains as reminders of being alive.]

#AwakeAugust 16

darkening sky over nearly full moon.
storm rolls in with fast lightning flashes
and the low constant groan of rolling thunder.
trees' leaves rustle in anticipation while humidity
clings
to everything, to me...
and now
the rain
begins
to
fall.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 15

crickets chirping in the middle of the day
down by the waterworks forest --
it's August, alright.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 14

wistful, sweet smile  -
one of my best friends
had a birthday today.
grandpa, love you forever.

© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 13

sitting as still as I can
with spine rising --
feels like 99 degrees.

© nan p.


[Note: That's Fahrenheit degrees, folks. While the temp outside is 90 degrees and rising, with the heat/humidity index, it "feels like 99" before 2 p.m. and things are rising before a storm comes to bring it all down. We closed up the house this morning at 9:30 a.m. to keep the 83 degrees from rising inside. I was just outside and this was my small stone to describe a moment of trying to keep still.]

#AwakeAugust 12

cooper attempts to assert his canine dominance
over the world
from inside my neighbor's house.


© nan p.

#AwakeAugust 11

incrementally earlier dusk
tonight than last --
summer begins its almost imperceptible
descent.

© nan p.