Snow up north. Chilly here

Cold, really

January 30

I twirl the stem of the venetian blind

Reveal the russet day, the vinyl neigborhood

The metaphysics of daylight

Interfusion of sensory elements

My struggle, repeated

Fears repeated

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Quarto domingo del

Tiempo ordinario

The old dog, sweet and confused

Deficates randomly

Kitchen and bedroom

Saint Francis deSales:

O God, I am in trouble

And all is not well with me

I let the poor dog out

36 degrees in Florida

The starlings scatter to the looping

Utility lines

The empty

feeders sway. The dogs wander

Listen, too,

How every pause is filled with under-notes,

Clear, silver, icy, keen, awakening tones,

Which pierce the senses, and live within the soul,

As the sharp stars pierce winter’s crystal air

And gaze upon themselves within the sea.

Shelley, Prometheus Unbound

It is not so here

It is nearly 8 a.m. Sunday

Fourth Sunday

In Ordinary Time

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