Pandemic Spring #2
Never before have the marsh marigolds burned such perfect suns in the mud along the smile of Marden Creek. Never before, or at least not since last year, but four Alzheimer seasons— summer, autumn, winter, sleep— have intervened and leeched the radiance of immortal memory buried shallow in common graves that now and then open up to frosts and heavy rainfall. Recollection…our most precious heirloom, so often overlooked in our hurry to pack for the next round in the tireless cycle of epic quests that weary us to death of reminiscence. We forget we’ve forgotten and walk in circles lost to anxiety more phantasm than fate. Remember! Yes, but how? How do you will your heart to beat or to stop and other such acts of nature so indomitably wild? Thank God, the string around your finger Thank God, the tap on your shoulder. Thank God, the timer on your oven that beeps out a simple return before all the lovely cookies burn.