A black-and-white photograph of a pale rose, the focus lightly blurred, the petals unfurling.

Come in, Love,
and shake the rain
from your shoulders.

Come —
let the storm lash
the panes of the windows,
the thunder rattle
the bones of the house.
Here we’ll make Quiet 
the way some people
make Love.

(I’ll tell you a secret:
Sometimes they’re one & the same.)

Let’s not talk of the world
outside the door —
the storm has snapped
the wires to this place,
and no outside voices
can reach us.

We will not eat at the table, 
but here on the floor,
the blanket smoothed out,
the glass bowl full of
petals and candlelight.

There’s a broken husk
of pomegranate.



The still air empty between us,
and the invitation 
to fill it.

Hush. ❤



    1. I love that, Miriam. This one is just a little scribble I jotted down the other day when T and I needed some quiet. I felt peaceful having written it, and last night, in a crashing thunderstorm, I felt peaceful publishing.

      Happy Monday! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

              1. Like a lot of longtime writers, I write because I get cranky and unhappy and sad when I don’t.

                I don’t worry too much about whether my writing is “good” or “bad.” I just do it, and at least half the time I think it’s worthwhile, for no other reason than that it makes me happy. 🙂

                Nature inspires me. Good books inspire me. But mostly, the act of writing itself inspires me. If that makes sense.

                What a great question! 🙂


              2. quite honestly, your response inspired me to write even more…and yes it does takes your sadness away..and connects you with the nature..
                and i can read books forever, is there any book which inspired you a lot..if yes please mention…
                thank you

                Liked by 1 person

              3. So many books!! Where to start?

                I love Mary Oliver (you can probably see that in my writing), Michael Ondaatje and Toni Morrison, for starters. All of them have that slightly magical bent to the way they see the world, which I suppose simply feels normal to me. 🙂


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