Lost (poetry)

I lost the poem I thought I wrote
with a fountain pen on a legal pad.
I can't remember it.  I don't know if it's bad or good.

Things change.

Today it rained, it's warm and now there is sun.

Things change.  Be happy.

Modern plumbing/poetry

I've been reading a lovely anthology of Japanese poetry and literature.  It's short, and cherry-picks, but the way the poetry touches my soul makes the world easier to bear as I try to leave the modern world for something better.

I've been reading my draft of Book 4 and find that it's hard to stay there, in a world filled with overwehlming change on a daily basis.

Just as I thought I'd reached a happy place, all my plumbing exploded. No working toilet, an exploding disposer, and while half of it's fixed, it will take a full day to clean up.

And still:

I will burn free.

My personal reality

Been a while.  There's no snow here and it's not even cold enough to run the snow cannons.  We did have a couple of inches of useful rain, though.  Tough in a tourist area where people plan their entire years around coming to ski for a week at Thanksgiving, buying stuff for other holidays, and generally getting into a seasonal mood with the cold and snow they'll never get Down the Hill.

The sun shines relentless, if beautifully.  The lake sparkles, but it's too cold for boating and the lakes are closed anyway.

I've been researching some not very happy aspects of the Meiji era.

Now, I'm going back to MY Meiji era where wrongs are righted and human rights restored.


Think SNOW.