So I need to respond to my own blog from the 22nd. When I said Grams pesters me I also needed to say that I love that she does. I love giving her my full attention and how it feels when she lays on  me. Pester away, I think!

I am including a poem. My poetry hardly ever goes over big, but I keep trying.

The Mercedes Parked at the Curb

Write a line with today in it–today I woke late. Still, the morning didn’t run away in leopard slippers. I was able to bend my body in prayer and ask God to relieve me from self. Self keeps my mind  tethered. In order to truly know God, I have to be out of my mind.

Outside, the leaves catch cool air after they sneeze, then land on the ground leaving me to carry them inside.

Bottom of my shoe, bottom of my soul, a messy expanse of leaves laden with dirty veins. They travel into 900 square feet of wood and tile, couches that lounge lazily, lights that have yet to wake, a kitchen counter read for slaughter—I lost the cutting board months ago.

I take the ready to go broom. I see another fall through.

God has been with me since day one. Infants cry, infants smile, their first shoes are bronzed to live eternally.

How many people have I embraced since Fall? How many have I left above the rug to point North, to sit with cornflakes and 2% milk.

God understands me. Sometimes, words are really not what they’re hyped up to be. To be.

Today I wrote of yesterday. Mother died some yesteryear.