Monday (Anti) Mantra. Always. Always this…


how you can never reach it,
no matter how hard you try,
walking as fast as you can,
but getting nowhere,
arms and legs pumping,
sweat drizzling in rivulets;
each year, a little slower,
more creaks and aches, less breath.
Ah, but these soft nights,
air like a warm bath,
the dusky wings of bats careening crazily overhead,
and you’d think the road goes on forever.
Apollinaire wrote, “What isn’t given to love is so much wasted,”
and I wonder what I haven’t given yet.
A thin comma moon rises orange,
a skinny slice of melon,
so delicious I could drown in its sweetness.
Or eat the whole thing, down to the rind.
Always, this hunger for more.

Barbara Crooker, How the Trees on Summer Nights Turn Into A Dark River



  1. The hunger for life…yes; the momentary twinges of ‘want’ that change with time and perspective – perhaps like the difference between sustenance and a Big Mac.


  2. I loved this. The frenzy, and then that moment of slowing, slowing, stop. Yes, we are always hungry AND so blind to what feeds us.


  3. “…I wonder what I haven’t given yet.” There’s always room to be kinder, gentler, more understanding, less judgmental. My takeaway, my reminder…


  4. step gently off the treadmill and rejoice in standing still.


  5. Thanks David. More of these moments as of late


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