“I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world.” ~ Albert Camus, from The Stranger

Swarming Birds at Dusk by Hunter Desportes (FCC)

                   

Two for Tuesday: In the Singular

Black Bird by Barbara Willi (FCC)

Dust

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor—
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes—
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.

~ Dorianne Laux

                     

Black Wing Stilt Footprints in the Sand by Shankar S (FCC)

Sand

I have a tone inside me
that has not been sounded. Or only once
or twice. Once she went straight to the center
of me, once she could have walked through me
like a tunnel. She could have seen sky
on the other side of me.
I could have washed my hands in sand,
then touched her, turned her to sand.
I’m the opposite of Midas: I want to touch
what’s returning to earth.

~ Jane Hilberry 

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