So, did you get last weeks riddle? maybe while you were dangling and clanging your Key Chain??
Wouldn’t it be nice if every riddle was so easily solved (or dismissed).
Yorick is out wandering the prairie; just imagine marbled cerulean above and dappled green, really really green below. Such is trusted this time of year.
Nature and judicious tending typically remove the mystery of growing. But the reaping, (where lies can’t confuse the numbers) is a puzzle, months from resolution.
Yorick again offers a love-poem for commonplace THINGS…
The answer next Saturday here at anachronisticanarchist.com.
What is She doing?
(But first this inquiry) Does He have a right (is that the right word(?)- it is such a big word – to visit? Would it be best to just stay away? She is, after all, trying to grasp and maybe emote some timeless grace.
Close to the river, the thickets (as good as any other background for mortality) limit her (as they do him); and maybe – maybe is such a big word don’t you think, (maybe?) – maybe She wants some quiet from the chaos of emotives and bomb-throwers, and enfant terribles, and maybe just (and is this the smallest maybe) maybe from He and his craziness?
Now that He has passed the conspicuous discrepancy (He, faulted, walked the straight and narrow – to her) shouldn’t He be acceptable? Maybe (as one might think) maybe, to be with her at the river…maybe? Maybe He has his own flowing grace or simple crazed value.
Or maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe She just wants to ponder a while, stare (or gaze) through this moment …
… or maybe wait …
… wait …wait, (that is also … such a big word).