Inspiration comes in fits and spurts, laced with time, warmed with the heart. Each of my offerings began with a whisper, a pause to see, hear, and reflect.
Books
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Blog
No Need to Explain
Define me by
What I am
Not based on desires
Give credence
to my acts
Frame my face with curls
Unruly waves
Eyes that see
A voice of exuberance
An elastic heart
With space beyond my size
Ignore comparisons
That only create holes.
Forget definitions
Like labels
That is not me.
Abbe’s Ruminations – June 2022
I remember my first walkabout with my blanky in tow and the assured waddle of a toddler ready to conquer the world. Graduating to circling the block of our suburban home, again alone, as I moved from toddler to surefooted preteen. The world was mine as I viewed lawns neatly mowed, piles in yards of discarded lives. I was known to wave and unbeknownst to me, the friendly gossip chain, noted my whereabouts and dutifully reported back to my parents.
Potholes in Our Hearts
An Abundance of snow
Melts and creates a hole
Inevitable freezing and shrinking
How do you fill this void?
The cold look of a lover
The passion seeking forgiveness
Frayed edges
Stuffed with
An excess of caution
An excess of money
An excess of fruit
An excess of desire
An excess of need
Wisdom
Says moderation
I say fill to the brim
And spread the joy
Spread the love
Let the holes open
The heart wide
And begin again.
A Toast of Life
The grapes ripened
The vintner harvested
The wine maker crushed
The distributor delivered
The store sold
You drank
The labor of the farmer
The sun kissed berry
The toiled soil
The fruit of life.
Painting
Watercolors
Float
Wet on wet
Cauliflower
Spread
A field of
Wildflowers
Dampen between
Green flicks of grasses
A mirage of sky
Sunkissed from below
Each stroke an illusion
Responsibility
My juice spilled
I didn’t touch it
Honest
Juice fairies appeared out of thin air
They tipped my glass
Yes, I know and the mother fairies
Clipped their wings
No more magic
Until the spill is cleaned.
About Abbe
Abbe Rolnick grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland. Her first major cultural jolt occurred at age 15 when her family moved to Miami Beach, Florida. To find perspective, she climbed the only non-palm tree at her condo complex and wrote what she observed. History came alive with her exposure to Cuban culture. After attending Boston University, she lived in Puerto Rico, where she owned a bookstore. Once Stateside, she capitalized on the knowledge she gained as an independent bookstore owner and worked for one of the finest bookstores, Village Books, in Bellingham, Washington. Once a CEO of a manufacturing firm and owner of a healthy foods café, she is now retired and spends her time writing.
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Many photos on this site and in Abbe’s Notes are copyright by Jim Wiggins.
