Create with Kim!

Tomorrow I will scramble eggs after a run on hemlock shaded trails. I will meditate on the image of a father and a young blond-haried son on the dock at Teal Lake. Fishing before 9a.m

I was driving to work, a Ziploc bag of honey-nut cheerios wishing for bananas and a day to read a book straight thru on a deck overlooking blue waters. It’s who I am in summer. Who I was. But now I work where I can.

My physical therapist says—you can do all you need to, right? And my anger rises at the lifestyles I have surrendered. I think of fingertips, a slow trail on water, and a slow crawl towards what’s next. How I am afraid to dare.

Massage practice closed now 4-years. Lost. Seeking harbors. That’s where I’ve been

I want to tell the physical therapist I most certainly cannot do all I need.

Words are an offering I write them on gum wrappers as a gift. Joy. Want. Hope. Art. Be. Zing. Drift.

Green ripples to gold and copper shining thru the ore dock of my photograph.

I feel the need to travel. (I wonder if Raphael will guide me.)

You know one of those long drives around the shore. Some great lake shore. Michigan highways. A curl of black-gray ribbon winding ahead into a mirage that never reflects. I approach and it is gone.