Mondays

Now the brides are assembling. Call the month June already and call collect because the economy is tight and we’re all pinching pennies. Or pinching the bottoms of bridesmaids if we’re already into the wine. We are, of course, and practically uninvited everywhere. Tucking extra battery packs and CF cards into tuxedo pockets, bouncing flashes off cathedral ceilings. Culling the herd in VFW halls and state park picnic shelters. Earning a living old school while we wait for travel visas and renewed vaccinations.

Call the horizon simply by that closer stand of trees.  Or call it over water by watching the curve of lake shore disappear.  I spent the morning calling the dog back from her pursuit of deer.  May mud underfoot and May flowers everywhere.  Almost the end of the run for crayfish in Louisiana.  Almost the end of planting season in Illinois.  Almost the official start of summer highways.

I’ve hung a baby swing in the backyard oak, the second time in almost twenty-five years.  I wiped the rain away this afternoon and plopped a diapered bottom in for a maiden voyage.  Tiny feet soaring toward the clouds.  Now I’m on deck for a Memorial Day cookout, grill smoking in the rain, guitar trying to keep pace with Juliana Finch on the stereo.  Having a bit of holiday and wishing you the same.

Give a listen to a piece of Juliana yourself:

Burning Down

Dave/IL

~ by oldmanhawk on May 25, 2009.