Once

You get it once. Yeah, that’s right, once. Not twice or any multiple of prime or whole numbers. Forget eternity. Leave all that eon stuff to dinosaurs. You get it once. Give it to me. I’ll give you some of mine. ƒ

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Snow

We are forgiven. Sometimes softly as now. Other times fast and furious, contradictory through the air swirling colliding eager and precipitous, forgiven nonetheless. Once fallen fresh upon fresh others may leave their imprint of sinfulness. ƒ

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Waving at the Scarecrow

Every year about this time we dream a little dream and put a scarecrow in our yard, a friendly fool who doesn’t scare anyone at all. Not even crows. I hear them laughing now high up in the trees. It’s made for fun at Halloween when all the real ghouls and goblins emerge to walk upright upon the earth and people like our scarecrow, because it isn’t scary. That’s the name we give it. Scare is our scarecrow Because it isn’t. I trust you get the humor.   Yesterday two souls walked by, one in charge of the other, two pedestrians upon our sidewalk and one waved at the scarecrow. One did not. The hooded figure with ears plugged into tiny speaker phones connected by wires to a box into which the hooded figure stared did not wave at the scarecrow, had no knowledge of its presence or autumn leaves […]

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I Once Saw God

Out there, in the middle of the night, on the flats north of some city in the desert, I saw him out of the corner of my eye at a speed I dared not look to see as I flew upon my motorcycle in the middle of the night. A burning light, a flare of light, a dazzling encounter with the one true God whose name I capitalize from respect. He spared me. He let me see the glory and live. A hundred miles per hour, the speed of my life up to then and there I came to rest, dismounted and removed my helmet in homage in the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. Perhaps He will let me see Him once again. Who knows? Then I’ll kneel as I should have done. It all comes with experience. ƒ

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Thank You

I did it. I said I would. It needed doing. I wanted to. I did it. The great task, the infinitesimal goal you set before me, I accomplished. Call me anything you like. Call me a swimmer at the shore, the sea behind him. Call me a climber at the top remembering the bottom. Call me a man in the afterglow of duty. Call me anything at all. I did it all and all I did I owe to you. Thank you. ƒ

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Dormer

I’m going to paint that son of a bitch. I’m going to climb up there and paint it.   I’m not a young man any more, but I’m not old and I can’t get my motorcycle out of the garage because the scaffold is in the way and I won’t move the scaffold until I paint the dormer.   I’m going to paint that son of a bitch.   I’m going to climb up there and remember I climbed Whitney and Baden-Powell and Mount San Antonio.   I don’t need to pretend. I climbed them all.   I’m going to climb up there and I’m going to paint that son of a bitch.   I’m going to paint to make things better and brighter and secure against the sun and rain.   I’m going to climb up there and I’m going to do my job. Nobody has to pay me. […]

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Never

We are not dead until we are dying and even then, we are free to spit into the eye of fate or chance or luck. Whatever you wish to call it. Be you one more time. Heaven is up. Hell is down. One is a climb. One is a slide. Chose one. Either way, have fun. ƒ

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Blooms Before Frost

They come, inexorably, indomitably, indefatigably, as soldiers come before the guns to be wasted, mown down and come again until victory is won. Sentinels, they stand waiting the inevitable assault, beautifully disciplined to inevitable destruction, vivid now courageous, brave and true. Like me if I so dare. Like you. ƒ

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Nightmare

I didn’t dream of you last night. I woke up screaming, bathed in sweat, gasping for breath, shouting, No! No! No! I didn’t sleep again last night, afraid to close my eyes. I lay there staring into the dark, thinking of you. Thank God. ♥

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SP 4449

You want to see something? You want to hear something? You want to feel a thrill, a longing, a rhapsody of energy alive? Then do this: westbound thru Montana and behold the screaming soul of engineering coupled to the poetry of stamina and drive. Listen to the bell and stand aside. ƒ

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