I Have Nothing to Say About the Cosmos, But the Cosmos Has the Last Say - #WriteOut '25, Day 13...Coincidences of What's Still in Bloom

If you teach an 8 a.m. in souther Connecticut, you need to depart at 6:30 a.m. to make it in time....even if it is only 11 miles...that is traffic in the NYC corridor. Truth is, I assigned an incredible episode of This American Life - The Problem We All Live With, knowing I wanted kids to have an extra hour in their dorm, so I could better prepare for the class.

I also have to get my dog to pee, who will resist unless I walk her. We headed for a block run around 6 a.m (the trash pick up was the noise of this time of day), but when I came back to the house, in sunlight, I noticed the wildflowers that reseeded were doing what they do and I tried to capture the activity. I don't think I captured any of the bees, but they were all over this glory. 

I taught for 2 hours. Returned. Walked the dog again. Returned to campus for meetings and meetings and lectures and lecturers and came home to ask, "What was this day?"

Truth is, this day was this morning - when the blooms were doing what they do. I'm not sure I care much for human accomplishments, but I'm thankful I'm feeding the bees. Douglas Coupland, 101. I'm sure that reference is over 99.99% of anyone who might read this post. At this point, I simply hope to document so that anthropologists (or whatever they may be called) might have access to the world as it once was. 

Queue in Blues Traveler, Whoops. And that's a wrap. 

They Write The Poem, I Don’t

Write Out ’25, Day 13

b.r.crandall

Promise me you’ll tell the bees

I’ve pushed back on goblins

and ghouls to bring fuchsia

into October days with last

minute nectar. 

If you want, you can control

the cosmos, manipulate narratives.

And they’ll love you for it,

buzz-brained, wing-whomped,

and thirsty for last-minute sugar.

Ignore the mailman waiving

nuisances with bills and

advertisements.

They’re feeding, 

and I don’t know 

where such sustenance 

takes them, but there’s joy.

Honey, I hope it’s 

towards love…

which I found in my 

garden this morning

navigating the fallen leaves

and contemplation for

hoodies and pair of gloves.