as i get older i get more philosophical, more confused, and more depressed about winter.

 do you know what i mean?

oh well. i must slow it down. look around. look for the good things again. r., and mister,
the other people displaced by the war of progress and the progress of war. the consciences of people, disembodied, floating like ghosts through the trees in the park, walking meditation.

 in my mind i can pause under a red leaf in brief hibernation, sort of.

and then, day after day, day by day, i might survive the winter, and feel another 
sweet spring.