Hi. This is the last you’ll hear from me about this adventure, as least in an e-mail and at least on a daily basis. I am sure you’ll be hearing a lot more as time passes. Tomorrow is our last day and I want to savor it, absorb it, process it in the privacy of mind. Tonight before dinner we are having a “studio romp” to visit three of the visual artists’ work and after dinner three writers are doing a “reading” in front of the fire place, in the “traditional reader’s chair” at the Shaw House. I get to go tonight and am a little nervous. But I have quieted my “internal critic” and he has decided to let me proceed. I will describe the direction the organization of my writing has taken and read a selection from each “Gallery:” Early Memories, Middle Memories, Recent Memories, Observations, Dreams, Poetry, Alzheimer’s Allegories, and Quotations. Wish me luck!
Lunch: Leftovers, Salad Nicoise and Chicken Pot Pie.
Dinner: Brat cooked in beer, sauerkraut, German potato salad.
Love you all. Glad I was able to carry you in my pocket on the Ragdale Adventure. See you and talk soon!
The Museum of Michael’s Mind
Poetry: Wolf Moon
January 30, 2010
February 2, 2010 - Revised
As I lie in bed tossing and turning
The ideas of the day,
The moon flooded my pillow,
And sleep evades me.
Largest of the year and full,
The cheese man smiles,
On his bronco, the cowboy bucks,
A young girl’s hair flows.
In my Ragdale bedroom,
A round window hole is punched through the wall.
Barnhouse red on the outside,
Playhouse blue inside.
The circle of thermopane inserted
Is slightly cracked, although not broken,
And even with its center gently misted,
The window to my world is not clouded.
The walls and floors pulse with the creativity,
Of the artists who have worked here before,
And the Spirits and Family of the Past
Take delight in what we now do.
I process the day and its events unfolded,
Set goals and desires for tomorrow.
I wonder at the wonder of being here,
And turn over to avoid Moon Burn.