The empty jars…
I watched her in the kitchen organizing her empty and filled mason jars.
And her empty and filled whiskey bottles on her personal shelves.
She told me on a cold Winter morning,
I store my dreams in the old mason jars.
Each one is filled with light and darkness.
Each one filled with leaves, letters or flowers.
Each one holding a memory.
I will need to hold one day again.
She organized the old empty whiskey bottles.
She filled them with the sand from the Pacific.
She stared at them and she told me.
The whiskey bottles are leftover memories,
I cannot forget. I put sand into them to remind me.
I had befriended the sea and we have drank too much whiskey.
She talked to the ravens and she whispered secret to them and the quiet night.
She adored the singing owls and the owls whispered to her. Tales of miracles.
She told me tonight.
No death tonight the owl told me.
it is time to escape into the night and find the sea.
Create more memories for my mason jars..
Dancing Coyote
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Thank you dear Beth. Good morning from Clinton Twp.
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Wow, your story rings a bell ~ my grandma also made jam, collected seashells with sand, and put them in mason jars. Nifty, heartwarming….
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A good hobby William. I been collecting things for 40 years.
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