…actually, why not?
Your life without a computer: what does it look like?
More postcards and personal letters. More in-person visits. More long conversations. More hours where “unreachable” is real.
More typewriters, Xerox, fax machines. More quiet evenings and comfortable silences, more of the Old World that disappeared.
No more computers? Time would slow down immediately.
#throwback
What is your favorite season of year? Why?
Rainy days followed by perfect sunshine. Bookshopping. Back-to-school supplies. Hot coffee in your favourite café. Crimson leaves. Golden light. That sudden sweep, rushing through the trees. Crisp mornings with baby-blue skies. Long coats. Hats, gloves, laced-up boots. The first silly socks. That hint of snow in the air. Snuggling close on benches. Woodsmoke. Rain-wet pines. Thunderstorms. Candles. Pumpkin, pecan, or sweat potato pie.
#autumn
How do you feel about cold weather?
Autumn is hands down the best season.
Bright warm days followed by rain and then suddenly: snow! Then bright warm days again.
Meanwhile, the leaves are turning into every kind of gold and red.
Perfection.
#sweaterweather
What is your favorite type of weather?
Call it Autumn, call it Fall, it doesn’t matter:
Sweater Weather is the best weather. Those few weeks before it gets genuinely grey and cold, when the leaves really start to turn? Perfection.
#autumn
freedom
is not words spoken
alone
it is sang out loud
in the silence that is accepted
across a bridge, dividing
knowing what needs demanding
a rule unbroken
a law of life.
but those sunk in silence
deaf to the marvelous sound
will tell you, whisper, shout:
spring does not exist
fall is an advertisement
summer a ludicrous myth
but winter the truth that has come
not snow-sparkling white
children laughing during snowball fights
but wet and grey
full of frostbite
that’s the one
that is the silence that has come
until one, two, three and more
sing of the sun
bright in the skies
flowers below, shining
trees like seas
green and grassy
life bursting in all colours
rejoicing
second to none.
…
she laughs when i say
i am (not: shall be) myself
i have a place within
that is sacred, me
and there is that moment
the question, hope, wonder:
how long until that laughter fades?
until understanding pervades
that each and all
have their holy place
beating under their ribs
smooth on their skin?
freedom is not a request
it never was a favour
it is necessary
the natural state of all things
but no one said it was easy
like canvas waiting
clay cool in one’s hands
the art of life is
living
loving
being
free
.
© 2015 threegoodwords
Words, images & collages tossed from a window.
Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living
small press. great publishing.
but don't take my word for it
Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.
A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other
three good words 