No time, no time - got to do this one raw. And so down it goes, nearly midnight, alive and now not. Game on, ongoing.
Well, it's not that bad. Nine p.m or just after. Which, given the parameters of bedtime for a 9-year old, a 4-year old, and a 16 month old, is still crazy. But hey, good news re: recent poems, and praise for other writing. Hungry as I am for that it arrives unasked for. Some God or Goddess looking out.
Night falling . . . but to me it always seems to be growing. Or seeping out at last from behind the dim walls of light. Bears crossed 143 as we drove west, not giving a damn, which pleased me. No turtles yet. No - one turtle, but already off the median, angled for the tall grass, Queen Ann's Lace.
And in Deerfield earlier a fox, mangy and lost and studying the litter just beyond the Highway Department's fence. Oh I love foxes, what do they signify again? Oh right, death. Well, I hate foxes then. And didn't point him out to Jeremiah or keep looking myself.
So no, I'm not well at all, thanks for asking but at least I'm here, this "ongoing cage match with the sentence."