Musings

I found a little conch the other day and put it up to my ear.
I thought of Moultrie. Of poems I'd written about it and how it stays in my memory like a lost lover.
I live by another river now. It rushes through the snow. Ice like a smashed windshield juts here and there. Not the same as my lazy ol’ river. I look at it long and try to make it the same. Try to drum up some continuum. ‘All rivers lead to the sea eventually mingling.’
Stuff like that…

Joy.
Joy is what I miss. Not whiskey crafted, or false little joys I make myself have over meager accomplishments.
That fresh "we're gonna live forever" joy that wasn't named till it was lost .

Whoa! Chapter three is coming up. What a great long night chapter two has been. Pushing it in the past will be an effort and a satisfaction.
See ya later, Moultrie...