Winter wants to creep in early–chance of snow this week after two long years without any to speak of. But I still hover in my mind on top of Weverton Cliffs in sunshine a week ago. We move back and forth in time, memories spilling into view even as we go about the business of the present. Autumnal thoughts, fading colors, big river, year’s end.
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm. (Stanza 1, “Ancient Music,” Ezra Pound)