The Word of the Day is "Tenebrous"

The fibers that hold thoughts together are hardly fibers at all, and yet they are so tenacious. And so why must the written word make such perfect sense, when it is only my thoughts on paper? Certainly my thoughts are not so fluid. If I say what is actually on my mind perhaps my thoughts will stop their buzzing; colliding ever so violently with themselves.

A depot is a depot
in day just as night.
I may just take my flight from here,
but would that - at all- be right?

The word of the day is tenebrous; which IS a word regardless of what the spell check says. It is explained best in sentence, i.e. "Look at that tenebrous figure emerging out of the fog! It's dark and I can hardly see them at all." Oddly enough, even though the word tenebrous describes something shadowy or obscure (much like the fluidity of this blog), the word itself sounds nothing like its definition. Tenebrous reminds me of other words like "tendon" or "tenor" both of which are joining words. Tendons hold the body together, and a good tenor brings people together (witness the musical "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers"), and yet this word "tenebrous" hardly brings anyone together at all. I think that I should re-define the word. I think that a re-definition would suit my day well.

And now a bit of Emily Dickenson:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Isn't she lovely? Read it again, poetry is always meant to be read twice. Notice her use of the hyphen; it really does drop a phrase, leaving the reader to retrieve it. I was walking down the street one day and then - like this - I dropped. But really, her use of the hyphen is not even the best part, it's how she describes hope. It perches and sings and flutters; impossible to kill. Lovely.
There, all done.