some reflections warble, some twist & coil. Is it the thing growing, the thing closer to death, or simply, it is water's magic & mayhem? Consider this: without water, cooking is limited. Tea, impossible. Without reflection, poems can be scant & sketchy. There you have it on a May day rather early in the month.
TRADECRAFT
ReplyDeleteWhat gives, May? a change in the weather. Wind blows hefty chunks of pine needles, sap, lichen, memories onto the fading worn boards of the deck. I love the sound, the motion, the presence, the dire earthly need to shift air and temperature around. Walks necessary, even in crowds and poverty. Certain feelings are ice cold, clear.