rejectomorph | Reset Forty-Seven, Day Twenty-Six

Saturday nothing again. Now I don't even remember if there were naps. The present moment is pretty clear. I'm feeling cold and listening to the microwave heat a spicy ramen bowl. After I eat it I will try to sleep. I will be under a pile of blankets. It's the best place to be right now. Sacramento has a fog advisory, but here it's not thick. Starting Monday there could be rain every day for a week. We do need it.

Sunday Verse

Ask Me

by William Stafford

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.