A BUTTERFLY, A GRAPE ARBOR, THE RIVER

July 12. Rotterdam Junction. All over the land, floods and heat. Only breeze and drizzle here. No, no breeze. But that’s alright. Warm. Safe.

And only my broken decades, dammed up joy. Gratitude for having been saved from my even worse proclivities. So far. So many prayers.

Memory. Memories.

Back from Bennington, out the kitchen window, a white butterfly, a grape arbor, grapes green but abundant, the flags slack on the golden eagle-crested flagpole. (No, no breeze.) The river. Thanks God for rivers.

A butterfly, a grape arbor, the river.

Wednesday. Middle of the week, middle of the month, middle of the summer.

Clouds.

God help me. God forgive me.

I will write now. Always write.