Softly, quietly: 'Mrow?' So quiet that I can barely hear it.

I look up. I talk to Edmund a lot, mostly because he acts interested when I do, and often chirrups back at me. Our 'conversations' are short, and usually have to do with whatever action I'm doing at the time.

A creation of something,
out of nothing,
into a self-imposed belief
of importance—
or existence.I. Reverse Sift

Between hand and fist, breath and wish,
everything shifts. Edge aligns with edge.
Points notch points. Trickles of deepest
blue slide from my palms and evaporate
in the eddying currents of the air.

Your fabrications come from lips and eyes,
dichotomies of faith and belief uttered
in glance and conversation. You define me,
wrongly, as a 'conjurer.' My fabrications
begin where yours meet their end.

It's axiomatic: no decent auto repair shops are open on Saturdays.

I sent Jeff off to Tuscaloosa early this morning in my car. I got an extra hour or two of sleep, got up, tended to a few things, and talked with Geof. The end result was that he offered to drive out to "the sticks" to bring me takeout Chinese.

Please abandon all previous plans!

So, no Tuscaloosa for me. Why? My God, what a day. Hello, half-empty bottle of wine. :)

Jeff says to me last night, "I need you to take the truck in for some maintenance work before we drive out on Saturday morning." Turns out the truck is driving oddly, so it's off to have the tires rotated, and the wheels aligned and balanced.This requires two trips. The first place says, "Hey, your tire is out of round. It was under warranty, so we replaced it." Take it to the second place, where they tell me, "Hey, your frame is far enough out of alignment that you need to take it to a body shop for repairs. Ask your spouse if he hit something and needs to confess…"

It's better in the winter:
mukluks, woolens, socks and scarves
unwind like so much baby bunting
to reveal the season's surprise.

The lamb's-fleece peels off in showers
of melting ice and snow. In summer,
the silk of a negligée is too much
clothing to be borne. In winter,

the excitement is in the discovery
of the warmth of a human body
buried in the prepositional
accoutrements of the winter season:

The pictures, part two.  Full photoset is available here.