“I didn’t exactly know where to start. But with the snow melting, and things appearing in the yard, there, at least, was an obvious entry. Next to the outdoor pizza oven, a cement block & pizza spatula, fallen onto the lawn. Lumber scraps, tossed when the chop saw was on the back porch. My snow shoes, dumped quickly, because I was carrying a lamp into the house. Corrugated metal, too big now, to cover a shrinking pile of dry firewood. Then, a whole different ball game in the front dooryard. What was left of a tarp, an old sewer pipe, the decorative pumpkin I’d put on the wall, an impressive mound of bark & kindling not yet gotten to, a gorilla cart. A gravel barrier, pushed up by the plow, plastic ice fishing sled and aluminum extension ladder, all within a coin’s toss of multiple almost-useful off-cuts of AdvanTech subfloor. And that’s when I decided to clean the construction site, not with the shop vac, but with my broom. And with my audio book going, no louder than but perhaps equal to the sound of shuffling bristles, I allowed my flotsam to blossom, irresistibly, into bliss. I’m a simple creature. So very simple. It makes it hard to live here, in this complicated world. I unfortunately pick up on things such as who is operating from a genuine need to know, and who is not. Most are focused on preserving what they have. What do I have? I have a lot of songs that I haven’t written yet. And a huge romance, that’s been scheduled for eons, either with myself, or with some incredibly righteous guy. I have resources spent, and assets gained. Gave up one of the world’s best views, to occupy a location more private, and more secure. So now I have the big forest, a kind of hedge against civilization, and protection. And risks. Most likely, UFOs are swallowing things or playing with clouds, up here. Which doesn’t so much concern me, as irk me because I wish they’d just come out with it. But for those of us tucked into this corner, we’re preparing, we’re absorbed, building life, celebrating health, banishing fear. We study time & portals, chart pieces of crazy wilderness, but also manage our lives, cook & care for others. It’s weird to watch society bifurcate this way. Our new bonds, our gratitude for sanity, leaves a wake, of sorts. Because we tried, and tried to reach them, and they just came back with criticism. And we faulted ourselves, in large part, for all the failure & disconnects. What trails after us, is a dusting of grace, or pollen, or anything that the wind catches and rakes into furrows. We insist upon a trace, a kiss, a book of lost moments. That should be on every shelf, where a soul has stopped believing. And is no longer reading, or doing anything, purely for love.”
