I am writing in a hotel room in Mobile, Alabama. My husband and I are here for a wedding. Not one of ours, thank goodness. It’s strange to be just a visitor, someone without any responsibilities for this celebration. We just get to be here, be present to the love and happiness. Not to mention the weather is amazing. A perfect temperature with a bright blue sky.
This week I noticed the sky. On Friday while I opened car doors for children, I watched the sun rise and off to the side a wisp of cirrus clouds change color. At one time there was a small rainbow circle in the clouds.
Reading blog posts this morning, I found this one from Smack Dab in the Middle celebrating the power of simple sentence structure of Kate DiCamillo in my favorite of her books, The Miraculous Adventures of Edward Tulane. Deborah Lytton writes, “Every word has an important role to play in spare prose. If it isn’t essential, then it doesn’t belong.”
I was thinking about how my husband and I are mere observers today. This little poem came to me:
We are here.
Insignificant bystanders
walking the empty streets.
The sky is open, a fragrant blue.
I reach for your hand.
You feel my touch.
We are here.
–Margaret Simon, poem-a-day #8