Sunday, December 23, 2007

Solstice on the Coast

It is quiet here. Very quiet, except for the wind and the surf. It sounds like there is an airco engine running outside. The seagulls are grounded. The dunegrass and brambles are waving at me, trying to get my attention. I think they want inside. The sea is gray-green--big stormy swells with colliding whitecaps in a rush to reach the shore.

I am listening to Dead Can Dance's Toward the Within album. The Piece for Solo Flute with its haunting melody provides a soothing counterpoint to nature's rage. Solstice has passed, the sun is reborn. The days will grow longer, and yet Winter has formally begun.

There is a New Year on the horizon, hovering out there in the fog and mist, as yet unformed. I have great hopes for that New Year... and no small amount of dread. Who will I chose to be to meet the challenges and opportunities of 2008? Looking into the future is like looking into that mist, and the only certainty right now is my sister's Jan 2nd surgery to remove the cancer growing inside her.

The coffee is brewed and the muffins are cool enough to eat. My friends are awake. Time to start my Sunday.

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Friday, December 21, 2007

My December so far


I awakened to the feel of his whiskers scraping my back and the sound of my own voice, purring.

I had a tremendous series of orgasms and discovered how to squirt.

Comice pears, bleu cheese, and Chateau Montifaud 30-year old XO cognac. Oralgasmic.

My car died.

I wore thick socks and jackets against the cold, but my nipples were hard anyway.

I came so hard and so often that my pelvic and abdominal muscles were sore for days.

My sister's cancer metastasized.

Tantric hugs, inside and out.

I worked several 10 to 12 hour days at the office.

I stood with my face upturned to the rain, and let it fall on me like permission for tears.

She took my blood, and left bruises behind.

He said he wanted to go shopping and would buy me anything I wanted -- and I couldn't think of a thing I wanted. Except him.

He watched me savoring a bite of ribeye, a gleam in his eye.

Word-play, a volley of bad jokes and puns.

Scrabble and chess over tea.

I wound her hair around my hand and shoved her face onto her husband's cock while I painted hot-pink hand-prints on her ass.

A thousand shades of gray, the kiss of moist air, the scent of woodsmoke, and thee.

10 days left to December.

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Thursday, December 13, 2007

December reflections

Disrobing mind of vocational garments
slipping into silvery thoughts
reflective as the zither-shaped pond
Coy as the koi
beneath a watery cloak of willow leaves
turned golden by the pallid light
Do koi dream in hibernation
while the year's last moon dies
and my chill fingers cry
for my lover's warm lips?
Reflections have form and shape
but no substance
like thoughts and emotions
they ripple and fade
Changeling world
the season of annihilation has come
and I will pass it in the gazebo
wearing only a robe of light
'til the dawn of my beloved's return

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