A ragged nest of twigs and stems, intertwined with little bits of grass and string bearing neither rhyme nor reason until suddenly, like kaleidoscopic gems falling into place to form a complete picture, that messy ragged nest becomes an inticately woven container of comprehension.
From deep in the dresser, I say, from deep in the dresser,
Where Adam stored the dreams from Eve's mirror,
Gee I wish I had written that
Or taken the WoW photo
Illustrating the poem
The house in the sunset
Or even if I could run again
My Sensei says at 82
Running too hard on the knees
So I kick ass instead
In Karate
And right now
My left foot slightly unusable
My head foggy from gout
I remember one of my best runs
I'm at some conference
With my attractive wife
We still have no kids
After ten years married
And I run through
Maybe the most beautiful town
On the continent
San Antonio
The River walk
I should stop here
Haven't yet put on
This morning's socks
Wait, you're only 82? I thought you recently said you'd turned 90? You're young yet!
82 year old baby
Thank you for the rerun, Jonathan. The loveliness of it...
Thank you, Fotini
Quite grand, Jonathan!
Thank you, Gary!
A great choice to pull from the archives, Jonathan. I love how you intertwine themes throughout this tale.
Thank you, Rod -- yes, it was a fun one to write.
This is enchanting. I can't say that I understand all that it entails, but hope over time it will tell.
Thank you, Bliss
that socks....!
my socks have a run in them
A ragged nest of twigs and stems, intertwined with little bits of grass and string bearing neither rhyme nor reason until suddenly, like kaleidoscopic gems falling into place to form a complete picture, that messy ragged nest becomes an inticately woven container of comprehension.
This made me smile — thank you.