I skipped town again this weekend.
Threw my journal, flannel pajama pants, a toothbrush and some snacks in a backpack, and boarded a train bound for East Quogue - a hamlet in the Hamptons and the setting for my small group's retreat.
As it was a weekend aimed at quietness, I don't want to muck up the recap with too many words. I'm not even sure I have the words to describe the lovely loveliness of time spent away with these girls.
So instead I'll just show you some pictures and leave you with a poem.
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.