There was an unpleasant smell of burning this evening, as of rotted wood. I hope it was just somebody who had made a poor choice of fuel for his barbecue.
Earlier there was shopping for things, and I now have another pair of pants with a waist size greater than the inseam length. I always thought I'd be terribly depressed when my waist size at last exceeded my inseam length, but it turns out to be only moderately depressing given its place in the context of everything else that's going on in my life.
I do have iced tea, though, which I enjoy unsweetened. And I got to see a bevy of quail across the street this afternoon,and they seemed happy enough despite their low centers of gravity. Plus, I've survived August, and September is bound to have at least a few nice days. I guess I can live with a fat ass.
by William Stafford
Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.
Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot—peace, you know.
Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.
This is what the whole thing is about.