Kaitlin is sick today. She woke up about 2:30 a.m. complaining of a stomach ache and threw up all over our dry clean only comforter about a half hour later. I won't go into detail about what we had for supper, but it was still amazing 'in tact'. Not fun. I put the sheets in the washer right away and cleaned up the comforter as best I could and we went to sleep in the spare bedroom. The rest of the night was pretty fitful and her stomach was still bothering this morning, so no school/no work.
She's feeling better now...after the third round of vomiting, she started to feel a little more spunky. She spent most the day on the couch watching 'toons and napping occasionally. I spent the day cleaning out and reorganizing the furniture in our spare bedroom. This project was FAR past overdue (and my initiative was sparked after laying in there all night feeling like stuff was suffocating me), but it looks great! Like a bedroom again! A very productive sick day for me!
Memories of Past Talents
In the process of moving a large bookshelf, I had to take off all my books and ran across a few things. I used to write...a lot. Mostly poetry and in high school and college, I even had a few pieces published.
These were my first two published pieces in Prairie Winds (a South Dakota literary and visual arts magazine) when I was a sophomore in high school.
No similar theme there, huh? I think I was really into the night and nature at the time. I remember thinking these poems sounded 'mysterious' and 'romantic'...now they just seem kind of dark. The first one also won 2nd place in the free form, division 4 contest for the South Dakota State Poetry Society that year...I remember being so proud of that.night fire
maybe I'm the ghost
to night's eyes.
a shadows sea
dances all around me.
night fire,
the flickering,
bloody mud glow
plays a game
on my laughing face,
provoked by grey smoke
and winter's mist.
i sing to the spirits song...where spirits play
a moonless night,
yet an eerie light
casts blue shadows on darkened earth.
i'm out where spirits play,
chasing through limbs
of demon trees,
rustling leaves,
whispering,
whistling
passwords at night's door
that echo in black space.
hitting me like a sweet caress,
smelling of a mountain thunderstorm.
up i look
at a single star,
the sky remains their worshiping ground.
