the miracles are being unrecorded

song: winter summer summer fall, the postmarks
mood: intangible

winds are winding through blossom branches and we're holding our empty hands to snatch away the melting flowers! the glorious, lovely azalea-tree in the public gardens has carpeted the lawn in purple and forsythia leaves force past their lemon-yellow flowers.
these sunrise-sunset days are speeding by so fast. ruth was in halifax for the weekend and we had couch-curled afternoons with music, magazines and the stories that we'd missed. it is good for the flat to be more our place (minus melissa) than mine alone.
friday was an adventuring-afternoon: we wandered through shops and streets for the sake of each other and not just for the company. after coffee and comfy-chairs at uncommon grounds and cheesecake at dinnertime, we joined a punk-rock concert in parade square and sat with the duct-tape clad protesters. and in a flowerprint dress under the rain, i made friends with a black lab who barked in time to grunge guitar. later, with feet dangling over the edge of the dark harbour, we watched cold night cigar smoke & the wide reflections changing colour with streetlights in dartmouth. we will not forget the small and spontaneous.
i am settling in more and more and you will keep coming round here with hopeful eyes. but i am not hoping for this. today, an old woman told me all about the ways of the lonely. she said, "you're just a slip of a thing, you're a child."