“God!” he cries
seemingly to no one
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
“God!” he cries
seemingly to no one
a place
as beautiful
as anywhere
on this planet
expanse of granite
mirrors
blaze in blue
water
my shoes not off for two weeks now
at least in the stinkin’ dream
Holy Land Mart
rolls of steel ingots
Potluck House
Defense Mapping Agency
“luck favors the trained mind”
Fellow counselor giving cigarettes to his campers.
My late German mother-in-law was fond of the expression, and I do wonder what it lost in translation.
I never could tell if it was a grudging admiration or an underlying censure.
The times she used it, though, I felt we were actually living better – and more simply.