I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


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Sunday, January 3, 2021

Snow in Kilkare Woods

 

January 3, 1974 (I was 29)

 

Snow in Kilkare Woods

Snow fell in awkward flakes

onto oaks unfamiliar with this white weight.

Old limbs, suddenly cold, roared and split,

fell hard to the soft ground.

The woods shook in stark disjointed thunder

and the quiet snow continued it’s fall.

Cool beauty to command such severity

reminded me that limbs younger than mine

split and fall as easily.

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