Worth a Try

Fried egg over roasted red peppers and lentils. More tea, less coffee. It's worth a try anyway.

On my walk with Kora, two crows heckle from their perch. Small piles of snow linger in the day's shadows.

An invitation falls like lightening out of thin air. Should I stay or should I go now? A language I've always wanted to hear electrifies in my ear. Yet I still sleep on the threshing floor at night. Lord, continue to winnow me.

snow and moss –
October leaves itself
beneath winter's feet

Tell me how to arrive, beloved. We gave up on maps long ago, therefore we travel this dampened, dirt road by scent into spring.

These myths; these stories. Are they not simply faff added to the ethos of a journey we are not even taking?

Geese call overhead and the westbound train to Chicago exaggerates a long, slow moan.

So I am the not storyteller and neither are you. Are we rudderless on the River Styx?

I'm tired. The best ending for all the stories would be the one where you teach me how to bake bread, breaking it, and sharing it with the others. It's probably the last real thing I need to learn.