a small stone

snow

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 09:44:00 +0000

a light dusting: sifted sugar on the gentle dome of a sponge.
the clouds hold their palms towards me, shielding the hills from view.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 09:44:00 +0000

today I saw a picture of a bird but not a bird

shrine with gold accents

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 09:01:00 +0000

intricate brocade on our aqua strip of sari, the rims of the deep blue offering cups, bluish candlelight flickering on the robes of the gold-leafed Buddha, a tongue of flame

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 09:02:00 +0000

an old ginger & lemon teabag rests on the soil of the pot-plant, waiting patiently to dissolve back into the earth

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 16:31:00 +0000

old snow, pocks in the grass

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:31:00 +0000

at the naming ceremony, we hold out two flowers to one year old Ramona. she takes one in each hand, beaming. she doesn't understand the words but she understands love.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 16:32:00 +0000

the snow follows us from west to east. we stop in a service station and drink coffee. the chairs scrape on the floor and fill the cavernous space.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 16:35:00 +0000

a cut on my hand (from paper?) itches persistently

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 16:35:00 +0000

Third day without my laptop. I float between webmail & facebook. I can't get at what will make me feel real.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 16:36:00 +0000

I try not to try too hard.

write a small stone (& hurrays & thankyous)

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 09:45:00 +0000

in honour of this year's River of Stones, rather than reading a small stone today I'd like you to write one and post it here. here's our Hurrays & Thankyous post with links to all our marvellous guest bloggers.

while I'm at it, a huge thank you to all the readers of a small stone over the years. you rock. (hee hee)

_/\_ (deep bow)

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 10:12:00 +0000

the hills draw their mists around them all day, trying to warm their small animals, mosses & rocks

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 10:49:00 +0000

Outside: drizzle. Inside: the computer screen. Leonard Cohen's gravelly voice calls me from downstairs.

after a walk on the hills

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 10:49:00 +0000

the usual talk of relationships, meaning, death. sipping our lemonade. looking out towards Wales.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 11:04:00 +0000

in someone else's notebook: a biro scrawl, 'A Year of Service'. what does it mean?

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:43:00 +0000

the thin piping sound of a bird from outside
makes me hungry for the hills

after service, stone passing

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 08:39:00 +0000

when I'm not watching, the fat church candle gutters & dies. we carry on talking.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 08:38:00 +0000

I didn't write anything down: Tuesday is lost.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 09:05:00 +0000

nothing more delicious than finding a sleepy cat & making him purr.... =^..^=

blind girl in Birmingham art gallery

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 09:05:00 +0000

she skims her fingers over the intricate stone sculpture, starting at the middle, working her way out. the woman reads information from the wall - dates, names. the man with them stands to one side, looking bored. the girl can't see him.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 09:33:00 +0000

He's in the supermarket early, like me. He carries his own unwashed smell around with him like a planet with its own atmosphere. He hesitates in front of the fruit juice. This one, or this?

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 09:33:00 +0000

a dry ache in my head, my blood sludgy, the sun comes up and goes down nonetheless.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 08:57:00 +0000

The soil is dry. I empty the dregs of tea into the bathroom sink and fill the mug with water. I carry it into the office. I pour water into the pot, where it sinks down towards the roots. The plant drinks. What ordinary miracles.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 08:58:00 +0000

'Can you bear it?'
'No!'
We go back to talking of everyday things. It cannot be born. And it must be.

Tsuki kitten, post-op

noreply@blogger.com (Fiona Robyn) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 16:09:00 +0000

they have cut her open and taken something out. hours later she races around the house, wanting food, wanting to play, wanting to go outside. her stitches look raw, frightening. her body is healing, all by itself. they have cut her open and taken something out.