Before I woke this morning this title was peeking through the cobwebs, eventually waking me before dawn.
Now with Bernstein’s Grofe Grand Canyon Sunrise is playing before first light, violins barely audible, mules waking up with their weird wail ready to hit the high trail. Those magnificent odd beasts.
My old body still dull, my left hip protesting the early wake, my brain puzzling with this title me saddling the mules for their trudge down the curvey canyon walls, young adventurers on their old swaying backs.
Here I am looking out over the trees beyond the back yard into the gray dawn. I write with the thought of visiting my old friends on the poetry website, they probably wondering where I’ve been for the last several months with nary a word posted there.
Last night, the Beatles’ White Album played, those young shaggy heads awake with popping images tunes and words tumbling from John and Paul, they too, like me, oblivious of where the trail would lead.
Put me back together. That’s what the Great Spirit is trying to do between my synapses while they still stir up there in the attic among the dusty old books and broken furniture and the all but forgotten dreams there among the silverfish.
Recently Moses was trying to teach me and the new generation in Deuteronomy before they crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land., his old body still holding on in the mountains where he would finally be laid to rest. I never thought I would get anything from that old book but Moses had one more old mind to reach. I am grateful his words were preserved for me before I too make it up beyond the top of the mountain finally put together.