Was at the library this morning, my mind too full of jumbled thoughts of Marvell, Dickinson, and petty Fate. (I don't believe it's Fate who's the culprit - it's the Puritans.)
Heading up Clinton I thought, what will I do, what will I do? And just then I saw on the frozen ground beneath a Norway maple, a green cardboard scrap, in script.
Faith, it read.
Have a little faith. I have to keep reminding myself.
And sometimes I need reminding.
On Warren Street early that Sunday morning there on the sidewalk was a tiny paper Christmas bulb, and a step away, an even tinier snowflake. I stooped to pick them up. There was a pretty cellophane candy wrapper too, but it was Sunday, so I left it there. Postage for your card, and glue in the first drawer I pulled.