Nothin'

I realized last night that three days had flashed by, full of important and wonderful activities from first to last, and my brain completely missed any prompting to follow my intent to write.  But here I am again.

What to post?  Today I wondered if I should babble on about hot flashes, but Barb beat me to it.  Then I discovered that Roxie was MOST delightfully blogging about birthdays and creativity.  And then Facebook opened its ugly maw and swallowed me for far too long.

So, in a time-honored manner, I shall acknowledge that my own Muse has wandered off somewhere, and instead share this poem written by the wondrous Henry Taylor:

IN ANOTHER'S HANDS
When I came out of the hardware store
into the eight-space parking lot beside it,
a wholesaler's semi had backed into the drive
and maybe blocked me in.  But maybe not.
I got in my truck and twisted to look out
toward the driver, who looked me over first,
then the space we had to work with.  It could be done.
Her hand, palm up, began to close and open.
I eased the clutch, trusting only the hand
to tell me where I was.  She watched the gap,
the truck rolled back, her fingers moved, then closed --
hold it! -- and I stopped and shifted to pull away,
but paused and waved, wanting to hold a moment
when something, however little, worked just right.
      {from Understanding Fiction: pOEMS 1986-1996, Lousiana State Univ. Press 1996}