The writer in me has occasionally been coy, or shy, and at times adventurous & exuberant.
Other times the writer is lazy or incoherent - that's when I make 'it' separate, distancing 'it' from 'me'.
And it has also been spot on.
Today, inspiration was visual - a beautiful moment which Roddy actually created.
Stepping into the large room which looks into the glassed-in porch, I espied this lovely scene.
Upon the table which Rod built were the books he wrote, and, beyond them, was the space where he first wrote when he lived here. Inside that space is the grape vine which he and his wife planted, with sunlight shining through panes of glass, whose frames they painted and that they took care of to view the yard where their children played.
No doubt the sun still shines in about the same place, and the grape probably has a style not lost from its own youth. The styles of the books may differ slightly in jacket and font, but the titles remain the same, and I could almost smell that pipe...
Sandra
No comments:
Post a Comment