Reverence for things that move slowly

A lost bird appeared in the court and was half an hour jumping around between the spikenard. It sang a progressive note, rising an octave at a time, until it became so acute that it was necessary to imagine it.
~Gabriel García Márquez

How was your week? Time seems like it is going by quickly for me, but slowly for my dog Lucy, who is stressing out because it's been thundering this afternoon.

Spring by Georgia O’Keeffe

An ekphrastic poem today by Adele Kenny:

So Here You Are
by Adele Kenny

After Spring by Georgia O’Keeffe

So here you are—by yourself because that’s what you choose.
Whether it’s evening or late afternoon (more dark, more light)
doesn’t matter, the need to measure things becomes less
and less important. Lately, you think how life rushes
through everything—unsettled dreams and things that will
never happen again. In a week or two, the lilacs will bloom;
dogwoods will float like watered silk. It’s ironic that all

read the rest here

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Karen Edmisten has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Karen!