Each day a reading by a poet or of a piece of writing in the public do main or a rant from an old man who has stories coming out his ears. Okeh.

A grandson wanted me to see him balanced in tree pose while standing on a slimy rock in cow pond, and this future we live in let me see that. I'm rich in things like those, and rich in time to muse and meander as if I were, in fact, only a grandpa who is a poet of no renown, richer than Solomon.