68. sounds of new construction hammering the distance
69. Emmy dog curled up by warm rocks in watery sunlight
70. blueberry pancakes griddle brown
71. fixers… vets and docs and dentists and car mechanics
72. tired beauty of tattered curtains in empty farmhouse window
73. Eames designed lime green chair
74. God provided window of opportunity
75. amped up guitar practice next room over
76. reading on the back porch
78. working out the details, making it work
80. the millisecond it took for the cyclist going the wrong way on the sidewalk to safely pass my car
Corn Griddle Cakes (Photo credit: ulterior epicure)
Look! Exclamation of two year olds and middle age whale watchers
commands immediate attention in sand box and off starboard side
offers a guards down gift of sudden sight.
Lookie-here is Old Country, like wrinkled grandpa porch rocking
hound at his feet. Mind my words son, my wise, year-full words. Makes
no difference, young-uns reckless, half-eared things.
Looking is committed motion. Cranks your neck to acute angle, drops
what you’re doing. Like when a toddler palm-holds your face by the cheeks
pulls your chin up, demands eye level “look at me” looking.
As if God had to ignore everything else and concentrate carefully on
the right mix of clay and spit in his hands. No. God’s mountain view
was pregnant with infinity. Visions of good, also for our eyes.
Imagine looking, seeing, like you just found out it’s the bonus question
on the exam. Like myopic tending to what is forming in your sweaty palms
is secondary to seeing what is very good. Like snow days matter.
Behold and see, lift your eyes and see, look and see.
Pay attention. Look long and hard. Imagine.