I let go a while back Pete. I said what I wanted to say to Mr Harris, he did good things but he couldn’t pass the baton and gripped so hard he killed the bird instead of letting it free to fly on. That’s the way it goes. But we go on, the song carries on, remaining not the same, but remaining, this woven wonder of words that is a vision of what is seen and felt and imagined. others came through for a time, left a mark, or a scar in some cases, but you my friend stayed true. We started at close to the same time, uncovered, recovered our writing voices and now press on. Don’t grieve for what is gone, carry it forward, carry it onward. Right now the voices of reason and wisdom and wonder need hearing more than ever. Write now, write on.
chips, chops, and eggs for supper tonight (and eggplant , peppers, and tomatoes from the garden) . and before I forget, because you will like this.
I collect the bags of leaves and grass clippings people put out on the curb. I wheel and old metal wheelbarrow down the street and haul it home for the compost. The other morning at 5:30 dark, I knew there were ten bags out there and I went out to fetch then before getting ready for school. It was 5:30 so I put on a pair of fuzzy sippers because they were the first shoes that came to hand in the dark, put on a coat, and since my underwear didn’t have holes figured I was clad sufficiently. i got half way down the block when an elderly Spanish gentleman in coat and hat (and pants) passes me by. Buenos Dias, says I and he buenos dias’s me back but I heard him stop and knew he was looking back to see. But I carried on because compost is king and the soil here is heavy clay and the clock was ticking.