We are safety pins and duct tape,
Patches upon patches;
Torn and tattered rags, discarded --
No part of us matches.
We are rows of darkened windows,
Broken locks and latches;
Doors that hang from rusted hinges,
Nests where nothing hatches.
We are tunes lost on the wind,
Songs heard but in snatches;
Broken notes where every voice
Falters, fades, catches.
Stephen Brooke ©2009
Okay, so I'm gloomy today. What, I'm gloomy lots of days? Oh well.
At least we're getting some rain and not-so-bad temperatures after those three dry weeks of triple-digit heat. My trees should all survive. But to balance that, I had to spend too-much-money getting the truck fixed up this morning. Heck, it has almost 200,000 miles on it so I suppose I shouldn't complain that much. The logistics of taking care of things like this while needing to stay with my mom 24 hours a day is always problematic. Not much to do about that but take things as they come.