I sit and type this (can you call it writing if you are not sitting, pen in hand, at a desk scribbling away?) with the sounds of chainsaws whirring in angry tones across the street. I would call it a tree-lined street, except for the fact that now one of the oldest trees on the block is being taken down. Remarkably fast, I might add--the felling of this great old tree. Not old by most standards, but...since before I was born, the branches of this tree sent out their own seed and flower, optimistic in the steady pace of life. A pace which should have assured this giant another couple of decades of growth...a pace failing to consider human beings and our grand ideas. The decisions we make in the name of "landscaping design"...we all make them, I can begrudge my neighbors nothing.
One week ago, a poem arrived,unpacked her bags, and decided to live in my notebook...I was glad for the company, however humble it may be. New visitors are always welcome...