(a candid moment from my recent fiesta)
my goat and i would like to thank
each and every one of you
who help me
celebrate every day
(the best day ever)
by being a part of my life.
“instead of hate, celebrate.”
kinders watch closely as the sand slips away.
‘the sand in the hourglass runs from one compartment to the other,
marking the passage of moments with something constant and tangible.
if you watch the flowing sand,
you might see time itself riding the granules.
contrary to popular opinion,
time is not an old white-haired man,
but a laughing child.
and time sings.’
glenn frey the cat has returned for a very unexpected encore.
his doctor gave him a last minute reprieve
offered him another chance
with new protocols and fingers crossed.
it may not last long
he’s not in pain
and is purring again
so we’ll take it one encore at a time.
he and i were both equally surprised
olive took it all in stride.
glenn still has no idea how big he really is
the lumbering giant
thinks he’s a kitten
knocking over everything in his way
he’s lived at least 3 lives since i’ve known him
that means 6ish still to go
and he’s still not ready to leave the stage for good, just yet.
“the encore is the short piece after the program has finished,
where the performer brings out something the audience doesn’t expect.”
i stopped to fill up with gas
and grab a cup of coffee
when heading out of town
and home once more.
as i paid and told
the very happy and chatty clerk
to have a good day
he glanced across the street
at the beautiful view he sees each day
and thanked me for reminding him
because every day was good
and especially today
because today was the day
that he was going to win the lottery
but somehow i thought that he already had.
“i count myself lucky,
having long ago won a lottery paid to me
in seven sunrises a week for life.”
“One day you finally knew what you had to do,
and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice —
though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles.
“Mend my life!” each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do, though the wind
pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little, as you left your voice behind,
the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds
and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world,
determined to do the only thing you could do —
determined to save the only life that you could save.”
credits: papercut by annie howe papercuts, poetry by Mary Oliver – ‘Journey.’