The time approaches for summer breezes through the windows, bottles of Bordeaux, grilled food, dark chocolate with Chile's' (my new indulgence). It's easier to be poor in the summer, easier to hold at bay the sorrows of the cold. I was not meant for bundles or layers, for heavy shoes, for expensive winter activities. I was born golden into greens and blues and the lift of air and the sunshine. Of dark summer nights and the symphony of its shadows. This is were hope finds grace.

The boys run barefoot through the yard to dig and climb. Their legs bruised and browned and scratched from adventures. Ice cream drips from their chins, grass stains accumulate on their knees, they are free. Soon it will be hot enough to take them to the shore where they will stand at the edge of the ocean and believe in futures. Their toes sliding beneath the surf where grains of sand will wash over them.

There are these things:

The gossamer wings of unnameable insects basking in the sunlight against the outside window pane.

The laborious work of a spider weaving a a hammock of what can only be a night times dwelling as assuredly, something or one will come along to disturb it.

The promise of crickets soon enough, the chirp of bats in the blue black sky just above, a glimpse.

In the heat, the night birds call their like and I dream of a house on stilts, canopied by some light- leaved tree.

Listening to The Duke Spirit. It reminds me of of bits and pieces of my past and awakens in me a feeling of my future. It makes me feel like I'm there on stage - Chrissie Hynde, Deborah Harry, Kim Gordon. It takes me back to places in my past that made me believe in a future.

I am wandering again in and out of places and blogs and ideas and I haven't settled anywhere just yet...I am hoping when I land it will be worth it.