at 75, I can see less clearly and more clearly.
for certain, Life and Death are a continuing,
and, I might add, overwhelming, twirling of
some great mandala moving across some
huge eternity we can’t manage to see, or
comprehend, tho we know it’s really there.
this turkey mama, and her one chick still
among us, are a micro-living-dying of our
Hope, that is also as eternal, that our self-
selves and our progenies will go on and on.
for this, we work, and hover, and Do those
things-that-must be-done. this, we call
Compassion, This, is Love as a power of
verbs, to presently necessary, if not truly
perfect...turkey mother is aware. she is
response-able. she has only a few simple
daily chores, that she knows must be done,
shelter. water. food grains, bugs. places of
protection. for sleep, air to breathe, no fires.
watchful eyes. conscious caution. traveling
feet. safe meet for flock. adventure, still!...