“All my excuses,” Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer writes, “disappear on black wings - crows scattering from the field." The excuses are crows, yes? That's the metaphor. Crows and excuses gather so fast - after the tailgate after the graduation party after the ice-cream social - they don't even know what's there they don't even know what's theirs. One showed up and started cawing then two then thirteen then four hundred it's so easy for them to multiply. What a mess this will make it's too risky i'm not smart enough i'm lazy i'm exhausted if i only had more..... The morning's air is heavy with rain and sunshine it was supposed to be cold today the weather forecast made a mistake and i'm wearing a sweater, long pants, and loafers. So what you'll be late for work? Turn the car around walk into your house that needs cleaning because of all the living and the doing and the trying from you and all your people that gather and settle like dust on the kitchen light and the floorboards and end tables it is everywhere all that dust all this living. So what change into something appropriate for a summer's morning kick off your shoes kick up the dust scatter it onto sunbeams.
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This is brilliant, Callie!!
Also, my brain does the same thing…
LOVE:
"it is everywhere
all that dust
all this living."