"My great-aunt Alice, Miss Rumphius, is very old now. Her hair is very white. Every year there are more and more lupines. Now they call her the Lupine Lady. Sometimes my friends stand with me outside her gate, curious to see the old, old lady who planted the fields of lupines. When she invites us in, they come slowly. They think she is the oldest woman in the world. Often she tells us stories of faraway places.
"When I grow up," I tell her, "I too will go to faraway places and come home to live by the sea."
"That is all very well, little Alice," says my aunt, "but there is a third thing you must do."
"What is that?" I ask.
"You must do something to make the world more beautiful."
"All right," I say.
But I do no know yet what that will be.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

a new perspective from 30, 000 ft...

Tonight.
The last black dot on white
The ending paragraph to voices, places, space
This is the last punctuation mark.
The fading of a flickering spark.
Behind. Remind. A different kind.
This is space for the new-ness to begin.
The lighting of a new spark
A new color other than black on white…..
And a chance to make things right.
Tonight.
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