Saturday, January 31, 2015


I didn't expect Muncie, Indiana to bring back thoughts of Hackettstown, NJ (my birthplace).

A late December sky.
Frost in morning.
Bare and beautiful trees.
Rushing water.

A litany of memories.

And here in sunny, warm San Francisco,
what will be for lunch?  Will it be warm
enough to sit on the balcony?

What lines will be written by 5 pm?

1 comment:

  1. Once the moment has passed
    it joins the procession of time
    and then how do we define that closed circle
    or open it again?

    measuring cups and spoons after making breakfast --
    their pantry off the wide wooden boards of the kitchen
    coal in the stove, steam from the kettle