counterpoint

Billy Collins talked to us about the whales propelling themselves through the oceans as we sit and have coffee, and I have wondered about everything that happens in the same day.  I sit here squirming with a blank page and there is a birth going right and one going wrong, and someone may have discovered a new planet. We are never not moving, the whales or the wind or our hips in this case, and I am not tired of thinking about it. Sometimes it is difficult to decide which animal or spark to pay attention to, because the important memories don’t always make themselves clear until years and oceans later. So today I may just notice the creaminess of this coffee and what a miracle that seems to be. Last night I dreamt about Coretta’s tiny hands folded in prayer, and that seems fleshy and important. Especially when she awoke in the middle of the might and screamed for me, and when I got there her hands were in the same gesture as the dream. There does seem to be signs just about everywhere that we are poised for magic.