Take care, it is said, has been said, will be said, that you ask not for that which you are unwilling or unprepared to receive.  I have asked for blessing in the form of work, and it has been given me.  I sometimes feel like a house cat who has, once again, found that familiar, dry, soft lavender and pink-sweet rose smelling nest of its littered youth.  For where is there like home to remind oneself of cold air without, the damp shoes, the growling, fat stealing gut?  And I am becoming fat.  I am becoming soft, I feel it.


This morning I tried to explain this to my friends Andy and Kristy.  They know, of course they do, being of a spirit like mine own.  They too, however, are Americans; and are trapped like a wild thistle painted on a bone or mother of pearl, sticky-backed wall-sheet.  What flower would from there wish to be plucked?  For where might it be thrown next?  To the trash can, the land-fill, or worse?  And if into the flame, would it not for sometime float like suspended Fall leaves on the winter bringing winds before disappearing altogether into the river, common road, or Heaven?