Up the creek without a paddle: the second gift

So there I was, having just baited yet another hook, cast the line out into futureʻs ocean, returned to pull weeds at the east entrance to the Bluehouse. Watch the sand slip slowly through the glass. Passing time. Passing time.

There in my hands revealed: a skydiver sans ʻchute.

Not red green blue yellow or gold. Just none.

Empty hands raised with no trailing lines.

Am I up the creek without a paddle? or is this gift from the ground an invocation of the king who was a commoner?

The second gift from this enchanted earth.

The omphalos diaries: deer dawn

Just before dawn a few days ago,  I went out into the yard to take the measure of what the day might promise.

The shaggy locals were somewhat indignant when they realized my presence.

They let me know this with stamping, snorting and head ducking displays.

I got the message. Put to rout, I retreated to prepare for another day, another dollar. Ignoring the call of the white sage urging: run away from home, join a deer troupe. Go on! Do it!

The girl with the deer tattoo.