I have been on the road traveling for the last few weeks, first to Washington DC for work and then to the four corners for vacation. I breathed and blinked raining sand to bring home pictures of the slot canyons. I finally washed sandruff out of my hair but still find sand in the zippers and creases of my camera bag. I thumb through thousands of precious trip pictures, falling in love with the red sand, the red rocks, and the big blue sky. It almost felt strange to be home again although returning home was the sweetest part of my travel as usual.
I have no poems to post. I am waiting, for the dust to settle, for my heart to quiet, for the sun to tickle my nose, and that familiar flutter in my heart. I wave good night to bluebells on my sunset run. I watch the sunlight dancing in those intense blue eyes. I taste the sweetness in a deep green nettle soup. I wonder if love is knocking on my door. But alas, it merely knocks on my neighbor’s door. No matter. I am falling in love with this sweet life. Delicate. Intricate. Fantastical. Full of dreams, surprises, disappointments, all for the possibility of a glimpse of true love.