Live today at the wonderful Empty Mirror, a short essay and some photos centering on a concept that’s been especially present for me lately: the threshold. 

This one’s a little bit photo essay, a little bit meditation, a little bit book review. Oh, and a poem. Genres are tricky.

Come listen with me to some threshold spaces, if you’ve got a few minutes. (Link above.) And as always feel free to leave your own reflections in response, here or at Empty Mirror.

While you’re there, Empty Mirror offers wonderful poetry, lit crit, and visual art (I often especially enjoy their selections in that last category.)

Dark-Time Threshold

Black leaf
on paling cloud
grips winter hawthorn,
unmoved by the last exhale of fading stars.
Or my breath-held waiting.

By the time ki finishes
asking of this dawn
their weighty question,
I can just about
see color. I can see

the sweep of storm wings
leisurely northing. I can hear
not a feathered sound.

Hold with me a moment,
Day, to grieve as we are left.
To bless the crossing.