Saturday, October 3, 2009

notes from above

It's up to us, the twelve year olds and the eight year olds and yes, your little sister, too, even though she doesn't really understand yet and tells Mom and her diary everything, but she swore the pledge and signed the book so she can come up into the treehouse, and help us map out our plan, the counter insurgency against the agendas of the league of mailmen, dog walkers, garbage men who too closely observe and process our lives, who spy and counterspy and make alliances and betray trusts with the casualness and the callousness of adults caught in the web of their own superstitions. We are the sentinels, standing at attention, the guards in the trees, and we see everything.

the Scrabble board, and losing valiantly

drizzle drizzle and the delights of a woodstove