Brittany Phillips

Brittany Phillips Jan 2016

The Gap

I don't have kids, but I have my dogs.
In my office, they lounge on the cornflour blue couch,
washed in the warm sunshine that empties in through the windows.
Their eyes closed and black, their faces coated in calm.

I type my writing, trying to find feelings worth translating into words.
Gazing out the window, waiting to catch a glimmer...
Of something miraculous.

A burly wind blows across the fields,
whipping and twirling sparkles of snow crystals high into the air.
We can hear it moving out there, beyond the dooryard.
The wind, it's howl.
Carrying the message of endlessness impermanence.

I listen and suddenly I capture the gap,
here in this cozy and sun swallowed room,
with my quiet family dozing muzzle to muzzle.

Miraculous.

A moment such as this...
the gap between all of life's impermanence,
living bliss captured, soon to be released.

Jan 2016

katie

Willow

The willow hangs,
drapes the ground,
dances to a tune
unheard in the hum
of cars and lorries,
in the commotion of
people passing in a
hurry, barely noticing
anything more than the
phones tapped with
fingers & thumbs.
But I notice,
I see it all,
the dance on display,
the symbol of sanity
I need today.

Brittany Phillips Dec 2015

The Stream of Abandon

Seeping loss trickling like an onyx stream, rocks covered in an emerald green softness. Water moves in between the black marbles down to the source where it can feel whole again. Down the fir-scented mountain sides the stream moves, through the woods -- honeyed with a musk scent of decaying leaves, smelling of earth and mother. Still on and on and finally making its way to the salty, jeweled sand where the rivulets run to the sea like an old woman's spidery fingers. The same water that glided over the slabs of high altitude rock, through the fissures and splits of cold granite, and touched the shiny black lips of a wandering deer, bending down to take a drink of bliss.
Now, here, salt on my lips.

— The End —