Our Thread


— Kim Mosley (https://blog.kimmosley.com)

Copper & Glass Web

Proximity no longer connects us.
Six feet isn't very sociable.  Now
ductile copper and glass fiber
connects: sight & sound. Not touch,
not hugs in a time of plague.

Mikes muted we extend our thoughts,
pens, souls into a space hoping
to attach to something, reel it in,
bind it to paper with ink & pen.

Fling it forth into our space bound
together with copper wire, glass fiber.
Community of the distanced
only in space, not in time together.

— Jeffrey Taylor

The Order of Time

They are everywhere, following their own threads,
often thoughtless about whether their movements
will snarl, worry, pull or fray the thread of another
or others.
Tragedies happen people get hurt or die; yet these
“righteous rafflers” seem oblivious.

Today, I saw eight people in a neighborhood pocket park,
for whom 6ft physical distance & wearing of a mask
had no relevance. Their vulnerability blinded by the
sense of invincibility, menacing the larger community
with whom they will doubtlessly interact.

Nothing can stop time’s unfolding.

— Martha Koock Ward

A Reminder:

Beloved, why do you continue beating your head through walls that don’t matter? Don’t you see the stars?
Don’t miss those stars…
Orion, Andromeda, Cassiopeia… perpetually upside down as punishment for foolish behavior?

Don’t be foolish—that point you so desire making or that ego-driven fact—
is it necessary?
Will getting a few more trivialities in
change the color of the leaves?

Will it stall the tulips from falling after their triumphant surge up through the earth?
Or did you miss the tulips…
what with worrying yourself over the thoughts and opinions of others?

The quiet wisdom of the willow tree
proves how menial that emotional charge you carry is,
how shallow of a fall that let down really was.

Does water still somersault, laughing its way down stream?
Does the breeze still blow, twirling with it each leaf as it dances through the trees?
Do the mountains still breathe in stillness
and exhale a grounded calm as they elegantly ebb
from green… to blue… to purple, as day turns to dusk?

So you do, too.

— Jordan