refocusing.

distractions,
diversions,
misdirections,
pitfalls,
snares,
snags,
snafus,
false trails,
covered tracks,
eaten breadcrumbs....
you know the way it goes, neighbors.
the path is obscured,
the road is closed,
the maps are out-of-date.
a trip to massachussetts and back again,
a drop off of those kickass kids of mine,
and all of a sudden the veil has been lifted-
what's the big reveal?
oh, you know-
it would seem that in the throes of family togetherness
and fatherly full-on 'knows-best' intensive interaction,
i've kind of lost my way a little teentsy tiny baby bit.
jeez.
the attentions i pour into those ladies are super-concentrated,
especially in lieu of the other alternatives to fixate on...
but, duders,
there's also about a hundred thousand things i've
still got to get busy on that won't finish themselves.
awwwwwwwww, man.
my whole world has taken the week off with me.
from responsible adult chores,
like firewood splitting, stacking, and sh!t,
or waist-high weedgrass lawn mowing in the gardens,
all the way down the line to artistic endeavors,
like lining, shading, drawing, designing, and creating....
when the little red hen goes on vacation,
nobody bakes the bread, y'feel me?
and since i don't have a body-double doppleganger
to pick up the slack and go on the attack,
well,
there's not much to show for the last eight days.
we ate all the treats,
the big bags of supplies and school clothes all went home with
harvest and maple, obviously-
and the movie checks in effect have all been cashed.
broke, broken, busted, beaten, misbegotten and woebegone.
that's what's up.
mostly, though,
here in the woodsly goodness,
in the rain,
under the silver spun-sugar woolen skies,
squeezing out the sponged up humidity from up above
and rinsing out and away the lameness of
being alone in a group most of the time,
well,
i steadily, readily find myself bebothered instead of progressing.
running around at a standstill,
biking in place at a sprint in stasis,
and sweating away my actual self up, up,
and all the way away into these stormy skies.
yep.
i'm rain dancing in ellipses with my knobby knees
to a backspinning stationary satellite....
cloud seeding with my own salt sprays?
that's real.
gray lugubrious lubricants across the mountains,
steamed and smokescreened foggy bottoms and tops,
courtesy of my own desire to disappear.
i guess i'm just on that delayed reaction
overreactive participation jauns.
huh?
oh, it's real.
i promise.
it takes a minute, but i blow up and out and combust my
caustic sauces all over the flippin' place,
like a depth charge of shallowness or something.
i dunno.
***********
so much that needs doing.
so many action items and priority set lists.
it's all waiting to happen,
even as it all unfolds according to the script.
there's a plan in there somewhere,
but it's secret.
shhh.
*
no pictures?
sorry.
i'm repping picturesque speech,
instead of speaking in pictures;
never quiet, never soft.....