Transit

I saw a really old woman on the sidewalk this morning struggling to do more than stand firm in one place, thought about the world from her youth (b&w, pre-modern, pre post-modern) and wondered why I don't by nature recognize the entry of previous generations into the brave new world all around us here and now. Time is a funny thing.

The flower in the kitchen is in bloom; Jodi Rose is back in residence; people are moving in and out of town; the snow from the first day of spring turned yesterday into a long and cold rainy one in which I got wet as soon as I dried off; Knut may or may not be on reconnaissance for his angry Arctic family, who'll likely eat our babies when they finally reach our shores.


Op lauern
auf Dauern
or lounging
in transit,
Chaos is
As always
In motion