Thinking today about the psalm that tells you to "number your days". When I look at this the whole day rushes back to me- at least for now. And I wonder if somewhere a little braid slowly comes undone.
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My life is something like a very large beach. In my world it is not the tide that washes things up- it's the street sweeper, or a careless child, or the occasional itinerant psychic or band promoter. These ads, art, lost toys and bits of stuff seem to be surrogate fortune cookies in my life. I am trying to string the pieces together and make sense of it even though my decoder ring is stuck in a P.O. Box in Battle Creek, Michigan.
1 comment:
there's a novel in there somewhere, b... : )
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