There is an article published in yesterday's Wall Street Journal titled "The Magnitude of the Mess We're In" that I haven't yet read, but is on the top of my must-read list for the day. Yes, like, today. I find it sometimes quite difficult to fit into the hours given in one day the total number of experiences I'd like to have. There is so much to see and do and feel and taste and hear and learn that the time it would take to do it all pales in comparison.

Like right now I'm totally supposed to be in class. But it's raining. And my favorite person is not otherwise engaged, and I have internet, and coffee, and a new puppy all joyfully existing in my home. And so there it is that I shall remain also, to tell you this story...

About stumps.

 

Two inches below the surface

you don't even break the wake

but meters you have an' aren't showin'

Brrrrbbbrrrrrbrbrr...  ya give me the shakes

 

 

A forrest, he said, up under those ripples

the land, hardly cleared 'fore flood

old hickorys and oaks

they make your motor choke

and send fear through your blood

.perception.

Relief comes in moments, on days, not always,
when the world's overcompensating pain seems dull and relentless...ly, I see
that the moments of ease came sparing and clean
with the staff-driven truth and the long white hair
always there
but only then that I felt, in repose, I suppose,
an ounce of relief.
But when my id, my ego, my self upon self says, to me, in a heated, heartfelt stutter:

"I ddiiddiiiddn't know....."

Then I know.

I know that this hole in my heart and this part in my soul
seem to be all I remember in the heat of my throws.
Times of peace or ease that sate
are those times of grit and grimace, and faith.
Much of the rest sits massively in wait
like a tumor webbed through synapse
...or a dog. at the gate.