Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
2005-11-13 afternoon, 57 degrees. 61 in Buffalo, NY. 63 in Tahlequah, OK. Heard from my friends the Andersons. Hopefully Earl will be able to post some poems here after he is settled in. Watched part of the Chiefs-Bills game. I survived the Bills' win surrounded by Chief fans. KC is probably the better team, but not today. In fact, they don't play well in Buffalo ever. Fall came yesterday in gusts of summery air that left an autumn scurrying along the ground and a drift of leaves, just there, where winter will find us huddling come Tuesday's blast. [546a] Legs up, the brown oak leaf scurries along the walk, a dull brown spider, dead after the fall. [546b] Only a few pass by. Fewer stop. Yet they all listen to the bells. They must. In concert their clang commands attention, harmonic or not. Resounding across the valley, the pine and redbud have heard a thousand's thousand notes. I ask the full moon, "Is she playing to you or to the emptiness?" [546c] OVERHEARD "That's right Mary, pet the puppy." A.J. to Mary saying goodbye to Hub at the hospital. (He's fine.) |