today

simple pleasures today. coffee and my cold morning stoop. the forest ahead. the squabbling squirrels. the pen. the notebook.

all these, in their own soft and quiet way, are a confrontation with mortality. and there is a sweep of gratitude in that. a way to secure a deep and abiding thankfulness. i begin to see FAILURE isn't even real. no such thing. except maybe giving up. just that. only that. everything else are steps and branches.

"Even if i knew tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree."

- Martin Luther

or orange tree or pear tree or cherry tree or avocado tree or banana tree or pineapple tree or fig tree or or or or...




write your poems, girls and boys. whatever form they take.