53 plus a whole week of days is 60
centered on a peoples creation story
I rise each day to dawns glory.
Making in roads each day is tricky
as roads are muddy snowy and slippery
put it in 4 and hold it at 50 until the peak.

I found the place to write but winter has a bite
and survival isn't guaranteed so one must find a deed
that pays for the basics to begin with and the advanced
to end with as such the hunter hunts the human needs.

Working for the shelters sanctity has taken time from me
but with each stage of progress it becomes warmer for guest
and I more solid in a definsible space even though next year
holds again the search for another place.

So what can one say that won't give a scent to follow
for the wolves at the door who think they found a score?
How to share a world that is rich but at the core hollow?
I am looking for the book an "Idiots Guide to Relationships"
but I haven't abandoned my raft craft writing or path
but still seeking that path where more than a shadow follows.

Blogging

I have attempted blogging at several points with good intention and vision to start but soon it wanes to the disdain of writing for myself to a white screen that is then published to a public page.

I enjoy conversations much more than preaching or posting to a cyber nation.  In school as a younger man, I did not choose computer programming because I couldn't see myself sitting that long typing text in to a box.  I did program the Heathkit Robot and had fun interfacing sensors, programming voice synthesizers and making things move but writing code for hours on end never moved me as much as building circuits.  Feeling those transistors, resistors, capacitors, inductors and components in your hand and seeing the colored wire arrangement come to life on a breadboard or soldered more permanently did more for me than C.  Yes, machine code talking to the chips directly in 8-bit or 16 bit hex opening and closing busses using logic analyzers to watch the control state and sequential logic flow that was what engaged me.

Now I attempt to blog and to share to find a cyber community the "buzz" says is there.  Yet, I prefer the eyes to share the body language to dance with even if its a nervous dance over coming the shyness of saying hello.  Yes, I try to blog, to blog, to blog and to speak but seldom if ever can I do it every day or every other week.  It isn't that I don't have something to write or say but doing it in person is my favorite way to communicate.

Cheers.

November and December seem a blur to me.  It was moving again and closing loops while moving through the emotional space of holidays not in the space for holidays.  After three tires and Traveling Wave coming to rest, the brakes need some attention and Vermont added another dimension to the aging between last time and this time.  Rust was evident on the calipers and the work took a week longer awaiting parts but the week was well spent even though completely disconnected from the internet.
A flight with my brother-n-law up to Durango and back to Denver again made it clear that between the two cities temporary staging grounds the 53 and 60 were still the places for me.  It is there the Zuni's trace their origins to a Salt Lake and dirt roads give hours of thought within natures palm.  The photo is looking toward Four Peaks a sacred mountain with the foreground being the Superstition range where the Pima Indians tell of a great demon who was caught up in the great flood and when the waters receded came to rest in those mountains.  The months like the great flood, seem awash in events from one to the next moving and preparing for this time now.  Now, when the holidays are past and people re-focus on work.  Now when the plans made all winter can begin to take root and in Spring give birth.  The connection is all things get swept up in a storm, good, bad or indifferent and each must wait for the flooding of unconscious events to soak in to the ground of being.