The ground was sparkly this morning. Seemed appropriate for the season. Christmas is less than two weeks away, still I don’t believe I have gotten into the spirit of the thing yet. Perhaps I expect too much from this time of year. I really expect it to be a time of peace and joy, but it rarely is. I suppose that says more about where my head is than anything else.
So, today I will take it upon myself to go out and create some peace and a little bit of joy. It’s not too late.
The ground is frozen hard. I stand waiting for the dogs to do their thing, but then I notice my shadow on the side of the house watching me. It is bulky and blunt. This spurs a memory from long ago: a boy waiting in the cold for a school bus, notices his long shadow stretching down the road, watching him. Then, as now, our shadows shapeshift to match our lives.
Pat Greenwell is an artist. A painter and sometimes poet, he has been searching the New Mexico desert for several years now, looking for lost possibilities and probable intentions.
"...mostly stream-of-consciousness stuff, you know...