The calendar year is more than half over.
Days slip into nights in the July of Oregon.
Working some on the house and the land.
Working through. Working at.
I don't know why I call it work.
It's just doing the thing of moving.
Finding my sense of humor when it
gets misplaced, as well as my eye glasses.
I look old, I sound old, I feel old...
but, I'm not. I never grew up.
In fact, I am still ten and a half.
But some adult in my mind, I don't know
where she comes from, keeps telling me
to do stupid things, like plant flowers in
the yard. It's tough to ignore, I tell ya.