Prime, and the Time Past

What a week it has been:  difficult stories in the news, firming up some plans for moving, time spent with family and friends, and lots and lots of sorting. Let me collect some of the minutae so that I don't forget them.

--A week ago, we'd have been getting ready for the long motorcycle trip back across the state. I spent part of that time thinking about possible poem ideas so let me record one of them here:

this is the lake that holds the water

this is the levy that holds the lake

this is the crack That holds your demise

this is the faith washed away

--Yesterday as I was going to meet a friend for lunch I was astonished at the beauty of the Royal Poinciana trees. They are a bit past their prime, and I felt a bit of sadness, since I won't be here when they are back in their prime.

--I am trying not to think of all the ways I feel I am a bit past my prime.

--I made this Facebook post:

Out on the 6th floor parking deck, watching storms roll in from the Everglades, counting how many Royal Poinciana trees we can see, blazes of red against a darkening sky.

--At first I liked the poetic possibilities, but then I started wondering how much it was influenced by Ezra pound. I woke up this morning thinking that the word blaze is a cliche.  

--And it never did rain.