Asleep, Fireside

I had my Leatherman sideways and on top of the mantle when I realized I was built for brute force and blunt objects. I rest my physicals fireside and hope for the amber glow to give me fountains of youth. In these lean years, I have learned to appreciate the smaller things that makes a life and the world go round. The difficulty is teaching my children an appreciation for the smaller things when they want more. Actually, I want them to have the best, but they must also have an ability to create the best situation when dealt lemons. Not in the sense that they get accustomed to shitty, but they can find a happiness in some of the lemons in life and know that they want improvement for themselves. I can only imagine those Southern towns during a time in history when folks had to make a life from piles of lemons and misfortune thrown their way. That is the inspiration I work from in hopes to get my own pot of gold sometime before I return to the dust to mingle with my ancestors.

One year later from the above paragraph...

3/21/15

Asleep fireside, this time, reclined in a recliner suited for Kingship. What is so nice following a day of drinking Genesee and bringing the logs to the firepit. But, now I'm fixed on finding the light of a dream as I get drowsy sitting beside the crackling embers. Empty beer cans are bravely line up, saluting. There are two floating ideas that I want to grasp right now.

1. Spring is coming on, it's on the come up. March Madness is blasted across the ESPN wires. It's on my mentals like a squirrel and his nuts. My cul de sac is wide open for jumpshots. The basketball is on top of the pile in the garage.

2. Somewhere, in the wild blue yonder, I feel connected to this country like my brothers are whispering into my ears from sea to sea. They make their notes when the jets race across the sky as I shoot hoops in the cul de sac. I pause between layups to look up and count the aircraft in the infinite space. Some coming from Philly, some on the move to the Illadelph. New York and Newark are also represented in the sky, over top of my house. People on the move, all through the night. With red eyes, wild eyes and sleeping eyes. Nevertheless, the country is on the move, I feel connected to the flow, like fish following the tides, like birds caught in the updrafts. The jumpers and crossovers are tight and effortless. Comfort overcomes to me, knowing the airliners are above and we make this world go around. I counted nine airplanes headed toward Philly within six minutes.