Two cheery little pieces of writing I came across today

Mean, median mode

“It is possible that we are past the middle now.”

--Robyn Sarah, “Riveted”

I am past the middle. I’ve passed the middle. I cannot live to 120, so actually I’ve been past the middle for quite some time now. I don’t know when I stopped thinking about half-life, but it must have been somewhere before the middle.

8/18/09

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Post Holes

Open meadow, no lines of demarcation to

Confine the buttercups

Nor to define the constant workspace of butterflies, ants, and honeybees

Sun, rain, a gentle breeze

Nourish the tall grasses until

Snow and cold cover them in gentle silence

Years of open meadow

Diligence of butterflies, ants, and

honeybees but eventually

Post holes appear

One by one, spaced at uneven intervals

Meadow morphing into corral

Fence posts installed like wooden crosses

One by one into the post holes

Until only mine is left to fill.

    5/06 first draft; revised 7/07