Today I could talk straight through until I die and not tell you half my thoughts, history and fellow travelers. None great but I was there and lived it all.  So much, all the time.  Little things, big feelings–I am an Indian mound full of artifacts, a wrapped present on Christmas morning, full of surprises, not all good.  These atypical thoughts will leave me, but here they are for you to see, caught on my flypaper.

Moon casts her shadows

A plop sounds in the old creek

Night birds croon their songs

And I sleep…

Image:Ruth Scribbles.com