Three poems —
one about the love
in a small bag of pistachios —
and two works of prose
sit unwritten in my notebook;
the spaces aren’t big enough.
Yet, finally,
as the sun rises,
I call my daughter
out to the front steps
where we sit and talk about
yesterday’s and the morning’s
cloud formations
and what they may tell us
about the weather to come.
She watches her own breath
in the cool morning air,
describes the difference between
cirrus and altocumulus,
and asks me my favorite.
bussokuseki 
Just lovely.
I wonder if you saw this today. I thought of you: http://poems.com/poem.php?date=16015
I hadn’t – lovely, though, I especially like that first one. I am so touched that you thought of me in reading them. It has reminded me that I haven’t yet gone back to your comment about sesshin…which I will do now.
Space, regardless of size, is important to create and appreciate. Glad you did/are.
It is probably that “regardless of size” piece that is most important, how wise. Thank you & be well~
Ah, these precious mornings, when the evidence of our aliveness is made visible in our very breath! Thank you for reminding me that we cramp ourselves, that there’s infinite space out there, and in here.
Wonderful way to reflect on that breath…I am grateful for your visit, as always, and wish you well~