Honk.

2024.08.11

Good morning that wonderful way.

Squirrel toy on the chain link fence.
What else to talk about but Abe?
A friend at early dawn.

Can dawn be anything but early?

Is it a department of redunancy department day?
A day for New Hampshire things?

It's a beautiful state.
A little bit of everything.
Mountains, lakes, ocean shore.
Only the desert missing.

Sometimes artic, sometimes muggy, tropical.
We got it all.
Except the desert.

Can't say it's missed, never been to one.
Perhaps one day I'll go build an ineffectual sandcastle in a desert paradise.

Is that an oxymoron or just something a moron would say?

Morons and early dawns and Abe's squirrel toy on a chain linked fence.

I'll tie them all together by the end of the entry.

It's what I do,
Weave for you.

It's a poet's job.
Bring metaphors together that don't seem to belong.
To show how the whole world is linked in some way.

We build relationships.
It's what the world's meta is for; to make metaphors.

It's what writers do with words, painters with brushes, musicians with hushes and rushes of notes.

Hope floats, it's said.
A buoyant proclamation for the nation.
And oh boy ain't it grand.

Pianos and their soft tap felt hammers on thick strings go vibrato, don't you know?

Did you know we might call the piano a percussion instrument, each keypress is a hammer down tap on an overgrown guitar string.

Melodies and chords from keypresses.

Like poet's work.

"There's a certain rhythm to your words," a bright author once told me.

"It's my voice," I might have replaced my quick thank you with.

We sing with the voice within.
We press and long hand our notes in the sand,
Dance them on pixel light for your delight.

Sometimes things let down our expectations, but they always fulfill a greater expectation, if we're brave enough to see it.

Sometimes when you don't get that thing you're reaching for, it's because there's something better for you, something you're forgetting or just not seeing.

It's said a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

We ought to be grateful with what we have, first and foremost.

Abe runs around in circles with his other toy squirrel and occasionally drops it, honks it by jabbing it with his nose, then tosses it up against the chain link fence where the other toy squirrel hangs waiting to be washed.

A happy dog, with happy honks from a well-played with plush squirrel dog toy under a cool summer sunrise.

A good day for word play.
A good day for linking words.
A good day for chaining words together.

Perhaps I'll try typing with my nose.

Honk. Honk.