proteanme

I meant to post this earlier and I don’t know why that matters. I wrote it many hours ago and for some reason that seems significant to me. Maybe this should have been a note to myself.

I love how quiet it is as night. You drive out in it and it really is like a secret world and you are a little bit in on the secret. From some points on the east side, at least near my house, you can see over to everything lit up on the west side of the river and its almost always a little bit of an amazing thing to see.

I read a poem a number of years ago and there was some line in the poem about birds flying away in your chest or your heart. I don’t remember if the line was about feeling sad or feeling happy, and I’ve searched but I can’t find the poem, but the image of the line has stuck with me. For a while I used the “birds flying away” line as a way to describe all sorts of tender feelings and heartfelt stuff when other words just didn’t seem right or didn’t fit or I needed to somehow say there’s a bunch of stuff inside my heart and I am just trying to feel it. I haven’t used the phrase in years, but I still like really the idea of it; it seems so not neurotic; so not over thought; so just being and breathing.