Uncrossing Wires

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January 13, 2022- I found myself carrying two rectangular baskets of groceries a short distance, to a friend who was down with a cold and thus away from her work. This small act, at the behest of her mother, who is also a good friend, took less than five minutes-but made her week food secure.

Earlier, the focus was different. Three missed phone calls had to be resolved. One was easy-corrected by an e-mail thread. A second, which took a bit longer, was necessitated by someone, in the phone queue ahead of me, dealing with the passing of a loved one. That is not at all hard for me to comprehend. Anyone dealing with grief needs wide latitude and a ton of compassion. The third, variously involving a robot greeter; two answering services-one Indian, the other Australian; and the actual scheduler, took five tries-before we managed to connect and get the task accomplished.

That brings me to the substance of the task. I had cleared my calendar for the month of March, and was in the planning stages of a trip to the Deep South. The schedule will be adjusted: Mid-March to mid-April, in order to tend to three very small procedures, each taking less than an hour, but spaced over a three-week period, by insurance regulations. Those three dates are a week apart, in the first half of March.

It is my one duty to self and family to tend to any health hiccups, early and systematically. The wires need to remain uncrossed.

Dance The Moon

0

March 3, 2021-

Dance the Moon, my diligent friend. Your work is, and will be, reaping grand rewards. You have a magnificent mind, with heart to match and a drive that will bring sustenance to many.

Dance Mars, my solitary chum. We may walk many miles together, amongst the red rocks. You will heal many, also, through careful measure of l that which brings salubrity.

Dance Venus, oh sad, yet resilient blessing to my soul. I hear your heart’s every palpitation, and know that the warmth of your heart will sustain you, through all grief.

Dance the stars, my eternally best beloved. Dance, sing, and guide us who stayed behind. We have many who look to us in wonder, and can not afford to skip a beat.

Mocoa, Mosul, Memphis

7

April 4, 2017, Prescott- 

Three rivers converged,

burying some bodies,

and taking others into the maw

of the Amazon Basin.

Five nations’ armies converge,

blasting some innocents to smithereens,

sending others into the maw

of  pseudo-Islamic madness.

Four men converged,

in a sultry  neighbourhood.

One killed another,

sending America into the maw

of an outpouring of grief,

which the nation has yet to overcome.