11.20.15 The ice cometh.

11.19.15 As the warm night settles in

The tail end of fall, approaching the new beginnings of winter. Who would guess , what with the languid gentle rain , the moths flying beneath the outside light, as the warm night settles in for well earned rest.

11.18.15 But there are only heavens here, and the soft winter's wind

11.18.15 That the winds of the past have been stilled by the edge of the field.

Long ago and far away, I was about 25, and met up with my husband. We'd both had our fun, had then turned serious, with professional goals and working our way through school , grand political aspirations of revolution and drama, and passions about class and women's reproductive rights and Seabrook.

How odd it is, how romance explodes into a seismic passage of time, and then again into increasing regularity, expectation, deepening relations, and the stockpiling of the mundane.

In the midst of all the explosive beginnings, I did mention that I did not get to know people who would ever kick an animal of mine off the bed.

In fact, I sat him down, and told him that dealing with me would be dealing with many animals and many children. 

Of course, he said yes. Waved his arms around. "Me! me!" Swept me up and forgot all about the populations to come.

I love all the creatures we had, all those close relationships. All the learning and innovating I watched my kids do, as they learned to stretch, and to know a hamster, or a water snake, or a reticent rescue cat. 

Myself, I was simply voracious. For children. For rescuing anyone and everyone. Ever.


   

Oh, it takes so long, to grow older. To learn so very much.
That most often there is no rescuing necessary. 

That the externally perceived urgent even is actually residing deep within ourselves.

That one does not need to overpopulate the earth to soothe some deep ache. Not at all. 

That one eventually does not need legions of dependent animals all about you, begin carefully tended. In order to believe that life here is sound and good. 

That the winds of the past have been stilled by the edge of the field.