Friday, December 30, 2011

•river sticks•

Plink, plank, plunk, go the blueberries in my memory.  (Pail, bush, Maine.)  So, too, go the stones into the river of January.  Smooth and strange weights of observation, and choice.  Who doesn't love a skipping rock?  Berry of the sea, blue on its way to the bottom.  

(Join us in writing every day in January!)  xox


  1. oooh, I just yesterday I had some of my home made berry jam on toast - from the red and black raspberries of summer... Write with you! Peace.

  2. Now I'll think of you and "berry of the sea" whenever I make my breakfast (which usually includes the blueberries).