Communion in My Cup First lambs of the season. Triplets. Gotta pay close heed so they stay hale & quick. Shepherds whose communion is in the half-moon spring compost cup, Drink deep and drink up. Wherever you commune. I will raise one for you.   Here’s some fantastic music from Chicago that inspired me to…

Mourning doves singing to Venus even into the day sneaking like a corn snake into the tall grass, then gone. Unreal.

  Stove gloves, long-sleeved and heavy-leathered. I can pick up chunks of burning wood or pyrolized char coal. I am Prometheus! I control the fire fer sher! And the poker and ash shovel and bucket and bellows? That makes me Hephaestus. I feel the more than blood-hot air. I smell the smoke and particulate irritating…