a thermal breeze

These are the first two stanzas of a song I wrote long ago — ‘I’d like to fly on the back of a red-winged blackbird, I bet I’d hear the word of what it’s all about. I’d dip and slip on the back of a red-winged blackbird, and on a bank to the left I bet I’d figure it out. On a thermal breeze I’d find the answers to life, and all of the questions that fill up my head. Then I could jump in the morning with a thrill for the day, and all the paths that await me, just beyond my bed.’

I do feel like I’ve gone as far as I can possibly go, and I have yet to see New Orleans, and Paris, and Portugal. But, I did make a great sliding catch in my first game of Little League out in right field. And I did send a sweet message about our childhoods to my friend with alzheimer’s, which his wife’s going to read to him.

It’s all the way in and all the way down. It’s going further in this so sacred place right where I am.