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I've seen more than a couple blogs just tonight with the word iron in their names. Not only do I wish I would have thought of a clever handle with that word in it, but it's made me realize that it's one of my favorite words.
The way it's spelled, the way it looks, the way it sounds, the way it feels when I say it. I can almost taste the sharp metallic of it when I say the word iron.
I like the images it brings to my mind--a forge, pieces with a dark pewter sheen to them, weapons, tools, the cold. Somehow comforting, in its own way. I feel that way about words like whiskey and wool and wood, as well.
It pulls at something in my blood, just a little tug beneath the surface, drawn along arteries as it pulls outward, as if wanting to lead me somewhere, running back through veins as my heart gathers it all back to itself, safe and untouched by the air.
Perhaps there is a higher content inside, after all.
The way it's spelled, the way it looks, the way it sounds, the way it feels when I say it. I can almost taste the sharp metallic of it when I say the word iron.
I like the images it brings to my mind--a forge, pieces with a dark pewter sheen to them, weapons, tools, the cold. Somehow comforting, in its own way. I feel that way about words like whiskey and wool and wood, as well.
It pulls at something in my blood, just a little tug beneath the surface, drawn along arteries as it pulls outward, as if wanting to lead me somewhere, running back through veins as my heart gathers it all back to itself, safe and untouched by the air.
Perhaps there is a higher content inside, after all.