Uploaded on September 25, 2011
When in the fall does the day come?
When does the body refuse
the cold of water
that all this week it could endure?
Why today and not tomorrow
or yesterday?
No matter.
The chattering Fates snip threads
and a silent computer will close accounts.
—Elizabeth Hobbs
Poems from the Lake
09.25.2023: For much of my life, I dreamed of having a place on a lake. Now, I’m not so sure I want one.