The other shoe — has it dropped yet? Or are you still waiting?
It’s a funny thing, sitting here in the early morning quiet, knowing full well the roofers will be pounding away again by eight. In a strange way, although it is a bit hard on the ears, I look forward to it. There are different kinds of storms. Because I also think of war, and dwellings crashing around those who made the tragic mistake of being born. We get a new roof and they get
Has it dropped yet? Or are you still waiting?
Twenty-four degrees this morning.
And I’m glad you’re here.
I remember moving wood onto the porch of my childhood home. From the door, it was a short direct line to the fireplace. Eucalyptus, sycamore, peach, plum. Words, sweet on the tongue.