I have remembered music in the dark

[lord_of_entropy]

In the morning I fly out once more to San Francisco. When I scheduled these trips I presumed that I would have my cake & eat it to; a chance to see two dear friends at once, complementing one another in a life ending & a life beginning in that chill & foggy bay. I would have energy & love to spare for Sam- confident that lonelocust would be able to reinvigorate me.

Oft-awry the best laid plans of mice.

With Sam's passing my time in SF has been a vacation & a diverting way to convert numbers on a screen into memorable experiences and renewed intimacies with my BFF. I welcome the break from myself, the brooding I'm prone to, the routines of life at home. Memory is its own treasury but that's not the Teasdale poem that's been haunting me today.

Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.
~Sara Teasdale