I don’t have a poem, picture or essay this week. Lately my brain only thinks in titles or very short lines. So if I were to sum up my weekend in a list of blog titles it might go something like this:
- Friday Australian Mystery Night or How to Kill without Firearms
- Saturday Morning Shop Class for Seniors – Safety with Bifocals
- The Lady’s Luncheon and the Men Who Avoid Them
- The Art and Practice of Gluing Fingers to Wood
- Diet Day One or the of Life as We Use to Know It
- Church Coffee Hour – How to Avoid Conversation and Cake
- An Afternoon at the Opera
- To Write or Not To Write – Is that a Question?
- Ann with an E – Rewriting the Classics.
Well someday I might write something serious again, but now it’s time for “Man VS. Exercise Bike.”
Till next time,
Sorry, no wisdom this week.
I had one I wanted to use, but then my reality check bounced.
More wisdom next week,
Posted in wisdom
Tagged humor, wisdom
I’ve been busy in the shop, but haven’t posted much about it. I built a cabinet for the laundry room, but haven’t installed it yet. I’ve been working on my desk, but mostly just cutting and milling parts. Nothing to get too excited about and nothing really worth a whole picture.
But just in case someone thinks I’ve stopped posting on Wednesdays here are a couple of progress shots.
Parts stack in the atrium
Have been rough cut, milled and moved to here:
Parts stack in the shop. Cut, milled and waiting to be glued back together.
That’s it from here.
If you need me – I’ll be in the shop,
On The Edge of Change
The car powers up the hill
with my hand loosely on the wheel.
A little shimmy as my foot adds
power to the climb.
The road passes though the dried trees
and dead grass that fill
the gulf between there and here.
On the far side green trees climb to
an uncertain clear blue sky.
I sense, rather than know that a wall of rock
is filling the air next to the car as my
foot lets the power fail at the crest.
Coasting down into the river valley
the perfect future spreads before us.
Green grass underlines the front
of a ranch house where the old
child’s screams of summer joy
still echoes off the valley’s rim.
So long ago, the child in the mirror
wished to burst from the car
and play on that rusting swing.
Gravity takes hold of the car
as my foot hovers over the brake.
My hand tightens on the wheel
to control the flight from that past
to an uncertain future.
Till next week,
Posted in Poems
Tagged poem, Poetry