Sometimes – I hear a tap tap tapping though I’m looking at a photograph of a typewriter – which image makes no sound; I encounter story in silence where neither keys nor pen have yet shaped words; I feel what is over an horizon though it be beyond my sight; I sense poetry busy in the act of creating; I touch that which is not yet present. Sometimes all of life presents as mystery to be aspired to – and hoped for.
wind in my wheels 🌱 
I heard the tap-tap-tapping of memories…I loved the sound…the days of mimeographs, snail mail, and white-out…xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, the joy of memories, Mimi. All of yours, and – for some reason, this afternoon, of my mahogany wind-up gramophone and a crackling 78rpm of Howard Keel and ‘Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day …’ (with a touch of snow around the festal Carousel here in Edinburgh) 😍. Hugs and love – and deep appreciation for your last post. Words fail us in the face of much that exists in today’s world. But you always hit the right note. And you are a deeply valued and beloved light for our times 🤗💕xx
LikeLiked by 1 person