Enduring. How Endearing.
April 4, 2021•209 words
Easter. Sunday morning. Neither have any meaning for me. I sit. I drink a second cup of coffee. And now I write.
If anyone has read any of my other posts you can tell the undercurrents of anger, anxiety, and angst. Being bitter is not a good look for most people. Although in the America of today bitter is becoming a by-word.
Now I need to do some catching up. Starting from...
August 22, 2020...
I live to have no opinion about everyone else's opinion.
September 15, 2020...
Ordered a phone off of Amazon last night at 5.
It was at door at 6:45.
What hath God wrought?
September 23, 2020...
Tomorrow
there is no future
for those who are enduring
Today.
December 7, 2020...
Ruminating.
It sounds so bovinian.
Cud it is.
I am milking it
For all it's worth.
Some sit with sundowns
that never rise to the occasion.
No one needs
poetry.
No one reads
a morning's passage in the rain.
No one should walk into
thunder and expect buttercups.
No one truly wants to empathize.
No one needs to eulogize
you and your say.
See?
A day of poetry got in the way.
-the kirkyard
More later. There's always more later.