On the Leafless Trees

12/29/2006 7:45 AM – 8:07 AM

The light remains a rough thing this time of day, this time of year, but its beauty remains. What does one do when one is sitting in the house this time of day, so many years from now? Walking down the dirt road, the faint sun rising tired of the tops of fuzzy trees, we shake our head to clear the sleep and find our way to the spring.

Cold water and we aren’t that old yet, are we? There’s still years and years of fortunes to be won and lost. Perhaps we may come to find that we believe in love after all. Perhaps the earth will taste of possibilities again. Neither here nor there, though, neither here nor there. In the imitation of strong walking, we might find ourselves walking. So pretend then. Dance for me, darlin’. Darlin’, won’t you dance for me? Up and walking, forget about the short-circuits, they’re just short-circuits. Here is where existence lies, in this moment and in working towards a destination. Free from worry, we ride in rain and snow.

Cross the bridge with me, the metal ground is smoother than one can count on. But this thin crust is enough to walk on. Reality does not crumble because we cannot prove that it exists to everyone’s satisfaction. You get up in the morning. You drink some coffee and think about a day when you won’t think about cigarettes. It gets closer every morning. You read a little this. A little that. Then get up to sit down and write. The meter of life, it’s inherent rhythm, triplets on and we waltz when we hear it. The street lights go off but the total quantity of light in the sky doesn’t seem any more than it was a few minutes ago. Words, just words. Somewhere, inherent to all matter, is joy. The task is finding it. It’s past the twenty-second, so the days are getting longer. January February, March, the winter lasts and then ends. 31 approaches and it will be better than the last. There is nothing to loose. This adventure and then heaven. It’s cheap, but it’s better than fear. Somehow, when one lets go of self, true self is saved. Somehow, water becomes wine. Somehow, the days get warm in summer and the clouds drop down the dew. This is just this and it’ll do fine. We’ll find our way to spring.