Posts Tagged ‘joy’

Slice of Life Tuesday: On Sunsets

November 30, 2021

This post is part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge from Two Writing Teachers. Check them out!


Yesterday was a bingbangboom kind of a day. One of those days where I rely on to-do lists and razor-sharp logistics. Drop the dog off, take care of Chanukah packages, make it to my meeting, squeeze my plans in, teach, meet, shovel down food, teach, meet, run the errands, skip the workout, go to get the dog and…

Empty parking lot be darned. Just look at those COLORS!

WOW. The sky. The sky, as I was driving. I kept hoping I would make it to my destination in time to snap a picture or two or three or four. The above and below pics. They’re testaments to the power of dusk. Really, the right dose of sunlight is like a dandelion. It has the power to bloom and brighten and beautify whatever surroundings you might discover it in.

That LIGHT. The reflection. The beauty amidst concrete and steel. Perhaps there’s a metaphor for resilience to be had somewhere here.

Skies like this…I can’t NOT look at them.

More sky pictures from today. I also have to confess that my camera roll is chockablock with sky pictures. Pretty please tell me I’m not alone in this.

And clearly, there is something to be said for a late November sky, because this was a Facebook post of mine from ten years ago yesterday.

Talk about serendipity.

I’ll close out with one of my very favorite book excerpts of all time:

“The sky was a ragged blaze of red and pink and orange, and its double trembled on the    surface of the pond like color spilled from a paintbox. The sun was dropping fast now, a  soft red sliding egg yolk, and already to the east there was a darkening to purple. “

-Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

Poetry Month Day 28: There Are Worse Things

April 28, 2021

than the obvious sources of joy:

a box that arrives
out of the blue
with an armful of books
and a brainfull of ideas

or a pupper who plays,
overjoyed
with absolutely
every
single toy she can find
(especially when they squeak)

the smell of lilacs
coming to me
in odd waves
as I step out of the car
or turn the corner around the block

and some bits of joy less plain:

the kid
who originally gets the answer wrong
but makes you realize that yes,
masks can be wonderful
because they are scary
because some people have fun
in the scaring

or the teenage son
telling me I’m like cheese
or potato salad in human form
and knowing it comes
from love

because joy must be accepted
as a gift,
with both hands,
however it is dressed
or wrapped
or bagged
or handed over
or slopped on a plate

Joy,
even in its
least flattering forms,
is still joy.