Now I'm reading the children's classic, Heidi by Johanna Spyri, again. I trust my zany Madre to correct me if my memories are incorrect but I believe my parents read me this book numerous times. After several readings I was able to read it all by myself when I was 3 or 4 years old. The first book I ever read is worth reading again as I turn 30 this month. I've read a few chapters and it is delightful. It stirs yearnings in my heart to live in the mountains and Johnny would not protest if he could find drum students in Colorado.

I am also reading poems by Marie Howe, some of which I've read before. This collection is titled The Good Thief. There is a beautiful Rothko painting on the cover. What little I know of Rothko is sad; I think he died via a self-inflicted gunshot then fell through one of his paintings. He sure knew how to paint pure blocks of color. His simplistic paintings are ironically peaceful to my eyes.

Here is one of the poems I will share as I sip Tazo Awake hot tea, a blend of black teas from India and Ceylon:

Part of Eve's Discussion
~ by Marie Howe

It was like the moment when a bird decides not to eat from your hand,
and flies, just before it flies, the moment the rivers seem to still
and stop because a storm is coming, but there is no storm, as when
a hundred starlings lift and bank together before they wheel and drop,
very much like the moment, driving on bad ice, when it occurs to you
your car could spin, just before it slowly begins to spin, like
the moment just before you forgot what it was you were about to say,
it was like that, and after that, it was still like that, only
all the time.

{I love words laced into sentences and my God-given brown eyes in which to drink.}

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