Moss from the Forest I Most Love

I collected this moss on an evening walk
in the rain
through the forest I most love.
Autumn colors so vibrant,
leaves soaking wet.
So similar to a walk I took two years ago
in these woods.
So much stays the same here.
So much changes in the world outside.
I need to go back to the forest —
again
and again.

Worlds within Worlds

Deeply overcast day. Perfect for making tiny worlds inside worlds with rich green moss, fresh from the forest.

Terrariums: my interest in these little jars of life seems somehow tied up with my recent questions over work and our future. It is as if I can let myself imagine a series of different worlds — each completely contained. While my fingers are occupied with tiny bits of moss and lichen, I sift through possibilities in my mind and envision a half-a-dozen different paths. How can I be simultaneously so centered and so utterly unsure?

(From a piece I wrote in January 2015, before we knew that little Wallace would be joining our family.)

354 :: Vulnerable

It comes in waves.
That feeling —
hard to pin down at first.
And then it shows its face,
as if peeking around a corner:
vulnerable.

As if every thought is insignificant
and yet also too precious to
put into words.
Balancing on the edge
of the top shelf,
just out of reach
and uncomfortably close
to falling
off.