The Eye Plays with Time’s Card

And of course I’m getting old, but nothing can stop that.  Why would I, could I – it motivates me, strangely.  Just does, right night in the chair.  Kids playing outside as they always do at this hour, and me inside with wine and ideas, collecting self before hitting the Road – travel and new characters, conversations.  The sight is the word, and the clock loses its significance, or at least I hope it does.  My daughter swinging a bat out there, trying to hit a ball she throws to the sky in front of her.  Me here, with mind clear, endeared to my own circulation and immediate station.

I can’t help but fixate on the clock’s take, nothing in wallet.  Spent the last on a snack at some shack, baseball field. Son’s team didn’t make it to finals and I had to tell him it’s like that sometimes.  Wins are wins, and loses are bigger wins.  Moments of education and elevation. And now I see this, at this age, old, a but bitter but still with some sudden shine.

5:35, nearing dinner time.  Not hungry, only want to work.  However much life I have left I see this new music and clef – more or less adept.  The Zinfandel my sister made has a different tell and spell.  So I collect, introspect…. More to figure out, ride into new song and character for ME.  Hopefully I’ll sing more free….  New rooms, …