Ode to November: Make It A Meal Worth Having

Let me celebrate you now as you stand before me
while you can still hear the cheer.
Don’t let me wait until you’re gone to be fond.
Don’t let fear of embarrassment stifle my delight.
How the worry of impending shame leads us
to talk about love only when there can be no response.
Derision is so easy to dispense and a brickbat is so easy to receive,
an acknowledgement of what our self-loathing knew already.
We fumble and blush when praised or when praising,
waiting to be caught out, rejected.
I loved their book. I loved their art. I loved their mind.
I loved them - past tense.
It's hard not to fear the present, hard to be present,
hard not to bend under cynical stare,
but to keep the volume of things unsaid,
the regrets of silence as thin as they can be.
Let them take up little space on the shelf in your head.
Don't be afraid of joy.
Don't fear showing your love.
Don't conceal yourself for so long that
eventually you can no longer be found.
And all of this I said in my head as you walk by,
but not anymore.
Not anymore.
I love the bones of you.  ~ Robin Ince

Wherein I went to a Swing Dance where they had a wonderful live band, and danced the night away.  Watched another sunrise, mesmerized by a large wave cloud, when I heard what sounded like rain behind me, but it was a flock of birds...standing still, hearing their wings was exhilarating and beautiful.  broke my arm on a hike, but continued to watch the sunset before driving myself to the ED.  A week later, I drove one handed to Raptor-fest where I held a sweet little burrowing owl and I can't quite find words for the joy of that.  Soaked in the moody skies and changing leaves in SNP with my long awaited lifetime pass.  I saved up for a fairly decent espresso machine, and I don't know how I've lived without it all these years and survived on mock-lattes.  

Broken Humerus 11/2

Sling on my right wing, owl on the left.