Today is Friday, May 28th. I've been chewing on a little question lately - - What is inspiration? What inspires? I know this is because I am between quilts and between books, and we are at the end of the school year. The weather is still nasty; Rose Festival is around the corner, and I haven't nailed down my summer plans. Don and I have come to the conclusion that we might as well stay where we are - - it is a little slice of heaven, after all. Aside from some major weeding, I'll have some time on my hands. I'm almost ready to start writing - at least I'm thinking about fixin' to begin collecting ideas. I don't have an overwhelming urge to tell a particular story. Maybe a little poetry could budge my writer's slump. So here goes.

Confines (n)

Have you ever wondered what's really up there?
Stars, galaxies, droplets of infinity
Neurons all firing faster than light
Creases and courses
A waterfall of wings that ride on some colossal current
Bigger than my brain can conceive
No edge or end, no death
All atoms, particles, spaces between orts of matter
Driven by some urge, some pulse never ending
Cogs and ribbons moving to some rhythm
Many, many rhythms.
But why?
I like my thoughts within a frame
A square or rectangle or even a circle
Crazy swirls of maple burl can be forced into one plank of wood
Infinite color and imagination can be confined to a canvas
All manner of expression and situation can be bound in a book
Within a skull an entire lifetime is stored.
It is when one gets to the rim, that dropping-off point,
Words lose meaning
No logic just fear
What really is up there?
Is it forevers?
Can it fit in my skin?

Dottie, 2010

Maybe now I have some direction as to which way to go.

See ya,
D