huffed up hills unawares of the delicate leaf song when Grandfather Sun warmed frost on their bones; as though a tribe of women kneading bread in the kitchen— throated hums echoing methodical hands in rhythm
There are three score years and a trillion steps under my belt; yet, was never aware of their liminal passage rite unto the Valley of Death
One lifetime is never enough to learn, nor appreciate it all ~
I turned 60 this morning—finally 3:33 AM—because I couldn’t wait until sunrise to be born nor calm weather— but a storm of magnitude beating hospital windows; and noisy generators restoring power to wards
I was naturally a second child forced into first position by the death of a sister
I never had a hometown nor friends from birth— we relocated constantly
I've done the marriage thing followed by divorce, amicably— continued on...