Enga mellom fjella

Owls. Cool weather. The river rises...

"[A] lot of my absence was based on just going out to get life experience, becoming a man," Will Maxwell told AP. "In your twenties you are just a sketch of what you're trying to be."

A good quote for the elders among us who should be coloring in Life's Drawing by now (whether staying in the lines or not is up to you ) and to remind us that the youth among us need to get experience lest our expectations be too high and that we must be patient teachers.

We did not get the rain we need, in spite of the storms encircling us yesterday. The morning was warm, the afternoon chill. I had to go home for my coat. I really don't like crossing that bridge, shivering or not.

... And the water has risen. Snow-melt lifts trees and large limbs and hurtles them down-river. Not the safest of conditions for the ubiquitous kayakers bobbing at Brennan's Wave.

Last night I returned across that bridge and arrived at Fact and Fiction to hear two poets, Gary Thompson and Tom Aslin. They both knew and studied with Richard Hugo [1926-1982] here in Montana, so it was especially nice to see Dick's widow Ripley Hugo there and her friend Lois Welch (both artistes in their own right).

WDC Support: Got a message returning gps to me because someone had abused the review process. I truly hadn't noticed, but it is nice to know that the reviewers are being monitored.

Still, I obviously need to promote these better :

"Snow Dragon" 
"At the homeless encampment" 
"Remains of a juvenile delinquent" 

Old coots
that don't give two hoots
watch in owl-silence
while white quills of cotton,
slick with moon-screen,
hunt supermarkets.

Excerpt from a newer edited poem found in my plog: "166.59* Quills of the owl"  Inspired by Quill o' the Owl , of course!

Montana: Calm, crisp, 51 degrees.

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