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Rod &
Kubby. Photo by Bob Gentry, ©2002 by Stanyan Entertainment Group.
A Thought for Today
God never gives any of us more than we
can handle. Stretching exercises for the mind, heart and soul is every
bit as important as push-ups for the body.
FROM the¨BOOKS
I admit it, my diaries are the very definition of ipseity. Of course if it
were otherwise they wouldn’t be diaries. The Sound of Solitude, published
in 1983, is taken from a journal kept the year before. The four poems for
today are based on entries from that journal.
DECEMBER POEMS from THE SOUND OF SOLITUDE
Magic / December 12
On furry fours she comes to me
tail flicking, twitching in the air,
then mental judgment firm, intact,
she jumps up on my land and lands
firm, exactly as she planned.
She pushes at my whiskered chin,
and I push back.
It’s Magic’s Welcome Home.
The non-accusing purr
is pure electric.
While I was gone
a new trick has been mastered.
She throws a round red ball
high in the air,
catches it and bats it
back and forth to Edward.
Nikki watches
like a grandstand tennis fan,
head stationary, eyes rowing left to right.
Home Ground / December 13
The house suspended change
while I was gone,
it waited.
The only way to know the lightning
is to touch the thunder on home ground.
I would not miss
a creak or crack arriving,
a single shingle
that the wind gives wings to.
Where else but home
can any man meet danger
almost as an equal?
Empty Harbor / December 14
Those of us who sleep alone
are like abandoned boats –
we become accustomed
to lack of ownership.
We believe our chosen paths
are only where the sea drift takes us.
I have come back
to where the cedar hills
wear darkness like a stocking cap,
where morning comes the way
the fish hawk comes
quickly and on silent wings –
not because I had to or so wished
but because I found myself
moving in this sure direction.
I am here still looking for you.
There are no days
when I do not seek you out,
no hours anymore when you are not
paramount
when I am not sure beyond imagining
that I will meet you in the hills
or on the street.
I never do.
But I still go and come
to places we shred first together.
I always travel alleyways we knew;
these journeys need no compass
and no graph.
They have been diagramed before
and I will go on tracking them
alone if need be.
As the week winds down, fear not. Tomorrow is ‘Pass it Along Day.’ Sleep
warm.
RM 12/4/2002 9:19 PM
THE FINAL WORD
"People who want to give 100th birthday greetings to Thurmond on Thursday
can send them to be put in a basket at the senator's statue on the
Statehouse grounds," the Sun News reports.
Yes, or we can just put the senator in the basket.
– Bruce Bellingham
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