Poetry mixed with prose from a crone with spring fever:

We all

Run run run into the house.

Our safe cave

Our hub

of family

our community.

Living in contrary times.

Stay home or go out.

Youngest son must go on campus to take college exams today.

Calculus and physics.

I am feeling reluctant about this …. the stress fills my chest.

It is not like he is being sent off to war as current young Russian soldiers.

Trapped in a war not of their choosing.

But a war just the same of hidden bombs of Covid-19.

Son is choosing to go to college. He must be wise. This is how we develop our maturity of self hood.

The smell of sweetness in the air.

Smells like Easter morning of jellybeans, peeps and tall green grass while sliding down hills on cardboard boxes.

Solidarity with Ukraine

Planting of little sunflowers in the front garden.

I remember a quote from brother Greg, he said…

“It is a time when we must make our own family or community.”

He was referencing Andy Warhol.

Andy lived in an apartment yet was always on the phone talking to a large variety of communities of people, friends, and artists. His hub.

Social media has its faults yet the key to it for me is that it helps us to create community all over the world.

Blogging, streaming we meet others and as brother Greg said “We create ours…”

I am feeling from nature out and back again.

Electrical fire,

loud lawnmowers

cats that roll on the ground

they watch big birds in the sky.

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