Scribble

I drank a wine
of possibility with Rumi
And shivered:
How can I scribble
a poem of nothing
I’m not
just fix upon the world
a scribble
meant to be that poem
for I am
Winter and Water
in Time
that Poem is me

L.E. Hansen

I wrote a poem upon demand which struck me as odd, along with the rule of 44 words to be contained within. So many things off the beam on this which made it ravishing of course. And of and for and to the 10,000 things no less.

And so I did. Write it and yet not, more like a vomit of words, not mine.

Today & Football

Football! Playing the game today for Paul Hornug, one of the all-time greats of Green Bay Football! Paul moved on to play the game for Real—in the great goalposts of the Ether & Universe—yesterday.

Paul never played for another team after Green Bay. He was a Packer all the way and adored by The Man (Lombardi) and his fans. Jackie & I once sent him a pair of “stay-ties”—for kids’ shoes—as his football shoes were always coming untied. Wonder if he ever got ’em! Back in those days, when we lived in Madison, Wisconsin, there was no such thing as velcro.

But of course he doesn’t need to worry about such things today.

GO GREEN BAY!

And a Happy Birthday to Grandpa George on this the 15th of November, yet another autumn day in the hood. And a beautiful day it is.

Stopping By

The Woods and Words Today. While we continue to wait for official election results. Covid 19-end days. The next turn around the corner.

Female Northern Flicker. Came upon this neglected shot I made a few years ago. I was alerted by a neighbor that the flickers were migrating through the area. Lying on my belly in my small blind (set up overnight on her property), I was able to capture a few shots of these beautiful ground feeders. Thanks Melissa Starbuck. And thank you, David Moynahan.

The Waiting Days

“Welcome Back, America”

In Paris, the church bells were set to ringing, and the mayor sent the message to Biden: Welcome back, America!

In other news, there will now once again be dogs at the White House!

Posted by America Votes For Biden

This

What it is like until the other dies. And why it is more than final when gone. And why longing has new meaning, a new edge. Another part of self erased.


“I know now, after fifty years, that the finding/losing, forgetting/remembering, leaving/returning, never stops. The whole of life is about another chance, and while we are alive, till the very end, there is always another chance.”
Jeanette Winterson – Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Posted by Ravenous Butterflies

Richard Bergh – Nordic Summer Evening, 1899-1900