The Old Mule

Deep Ford Falls

The heat is upon us now. In a quick storm we head for the mountains. Our patriotic fervor will simmer at four thousand feet. And the hydrangeas will be two weeks behind. Let there be cool lake water.

We will visit the bakery, sleep in and get eggs at the Brewbird. We might amble down towards Deep Ford Falls. A tradition. I moan on endlessly about this or that rare trillium, your eyes glaze back to much grander specimens - our picture of earth, or this solitary point, our rotation.

What quick moment jolts through, which we call a lifetime. A flash of pond minnows. Perhaps we will hike and reflect.

Let there be cool lake water.

La Antigua

Remember the feel
of bare feet on that
rain cured deck? It was
our first trip and
arms still awkward
engaged, lying
stomach down

to see out –
look,
you said,
and we gazed across
a thousand year lake
to the proud spout of
a volcano.
Tranquilo,
the locals told us,
she sleeps with wolves.

Your cool skin
fit easy beneath
summer dress,
and each moment
held in humid air
and fit so perfect
that we would sing
our way through
each new latitude,
each separate course.

That morning
we paddled in boats.
Our talk was of the future.

-

It was just Sunday
here at home,
our garden set,
folding clothes before
dinner, and I wondered
if you recalled
that spear-beaked parrot
who followed me
from our hidden cottage
to the sea.

---------

Mitla, Mexico. In a dry, creaking farm valley shadowed by Monte Alban - great white mountain empire - and the Aztecs, those atronomers who vanished, and left much trace:

Monday

A trip around Iceland sounds perfect. 800 miles. Not much more than three tanks of gas. Blue rocks and steam. Iceland.

Four Years

Saturday morning...in Atlanta. This has been a whirlwind. I still need to sit down and go through the images and sounds from Mexico. And then our I-95 jaunt, too. And the visit from K and J which left me immobile and incompetent for a busy Friday. There are too few nights left in my cards, so I take all of them we muster in to.

It is easy to see great things in this world, at this hour. Give me my books, a pen and a slow way to travel. I have a fine compatriot; let me tell you what we have done.

Inn at 2920

Baltimore is a wonderful town. We stayed out late drinking in bars. Row houses, sea smells.

And this, a minor matter of (unrelated) interest.

Tierra Blanca

am laid up with giardia. Can barely move. It got so bad I went to see the "Break Up" movie.