Deep Winter Six

Shuffle Time

The kookaburras outside are complaining that it's only 8 degrees above freezing and winter hasn't started. The sun is sleeping in. My joints are creaking as I light the gas stove and to percolate the first of several coffees. Last night I bailed on my Monday run-shuffle exercise thing. Too cold. Too tired. Too late. But this morning, I'm on it. I want to be able to surf like this as long as I can. 

The Bell Jar

“I saw the years of my life spaced along a road 

in the form of telephone poles threaded together by wires. 

I counted one, two, three... nineteen telephone poles, 

and then the wires dangled into space, 

and try as I would, 

I couldn't see a single pole 

beyond the nineteenth.” 

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar