Sometimes

January 27, 2016.  Yesterday morning, driving along a familiar freeway, attentive to motions of other vehicles, exit signs, all the usual stimuli – suddenly James McMurtry’s voice singing “I only want to talk to you” leapt out of memory and song context to put me in Mother’s kitchen, desperate to talk to her.  She’s been gone since this month, 1990. Her kitchen is not an option.

I went instead to my journal.  Among other insights, this poem emerged.

The image is from the dining area at Red Corral Ranch, a retreat center I visit several times a year, near Wimberley, Texas.  The shadows were moving as the breeze stirred the curtains.  Not unlike thoughts changing partners for the next round in a square dance.

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