Sifting through life in a rural village. Perhaps an edge of insanity mixed with aging wisdom, swirled with wonder and served in small bites.
March 15, 2015 pm
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This is the product of mid-60 degree temperatures. The only visible snow left is in some edges of road where plows had piled up large mountains. Ah, spring!
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary...." Ah. A favorite poem I repeat to myself when my life needs a rhythm and a rhyme. Not your favorite? Sigh. Poe speaks for me when the confusion of life overruns my brain. "Came a tapping at my chamber door." What mysteries abound in the night? Is it the witch creeping closer to the edge of my bed? Is it doom searching along the depths of night on my ceiling? Am I safe in my corner? "Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore'!" Ah! Does this help to explain the darkness of my perspectives? Does it help to know this is a picture of the house of my childhood? Or are you also pondering weak and weary?
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