retro

Unshed tears gather in an underground pool as I wander here and there, thinking around things. There should be a place where thoughts sprout on their own once you cast them off. I'm in that dangerous time of the year when whatever I say isn't what anyone hears. I want things to end that should end. I want a wide road back to normal, with room on it for us to walk barefoot in the glow of a lantern or the last light of the evening sun.

I've got evening pictures in my mind. Overlaid on each other -- a sandy road to walk toward a lighted kitchen, a bulb hanging lit from a front porch -- streetlights on sidewalks down a paragraph or two from Malaprops, and a campground where people begin to build fires as we walk together toward our own.

It's not good to want the past, but I fear the present and have little faith in the future.

This is not a good writing, tonight. I have misplaced my upbeat. I want to cheer anyone who comes to read but there is too much and has been too much for too long.

Tomorrow, I'll read my cards again. Tomorrow, I'll knit something or plant something or rearrange the furniture. I'll make a plan. Right now, I'd like to walk some old places I've already been to times that no longer exist.