Thursday, December 29, 2016

broken treasure

The first art piece I ever purchased - a pottery cat with angel wings - sat broken on my coffee table. Elizabeth was profuse in her apologies. It had certainly been an accident. And I forgave her immediately. There were too many pieces to glue it back together. I threw it in the trash.

Thursday, December 8, 2016

not what the postman brought

In the wee, nippy hours of the Arizona night, while others slumber restlessly or dream of lovely things, I sit awake and ponder this unidentified thing inside my body. Will it be a momentary discomfort that I'll prattle on about some day, sitting with the other ladies at the old folk's home? Or is it a demon seed sent to wipe me from the planet, robbing me of the easy years when I'd planned to travel, write, and paint? Time will tell.