I do not have as much time to write as I sometimes do. Today we join our hiking friends to go up the Blue Ridge Parkway, in search of cooler temperatures and a hike. I need to make some sandwiches and clean out my backpack and eat some breakfast. But let me record a few bits and pieces:
--As I was out driving yesterday, scanning the radio for a station, any station, that played music, I was surprised at the lack of Sinead O'Connor songs after her death was announced. Maybe it's only people of the magnitude of a former Beatle that dominates the airwaves. Maybe no music can dominate airwaves these days. I was surprised by how many stations are all sports, all the time, and how many more religious stations there are.
--I threw a plastic bottle into recycling and now I wish I had it back for today's hike. Sigh.
--I once had more supplies for a hike, both in terms of canteens, boots, and snacks. We once had more water bottles; I wonder where we packed them.
--It feels like I haven't written much, but I did write a poem this morning, another Cassandra poem. And as I finished it, I read about another torrential rainfall event in South Florida, just a few months after the one in April. I am glad to be at 2200 feet above sea level.
--Last night, I saw fireflies as I was drifting off to sleep. Later, the distant moon through the trees woke me up, but happily, I could fall back asleep.
--My Cassandra poem ends with this stanza, which I find surprisingly hopeful for my Cassandra series:
The spider reweaves at the endof each day, spinning over the destruction,
working a new pattern. Cassandra cuts
her own fabrics, a crazy quilt,
a comforter for the new age.
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