Here’s a pic of Brandon breaking off the brussels sprouts.  I love how his cap matches the orange of the maple, now mostly bare.

It was a sweet and heartbreaking farewell to our dog Hannah on Friday.  Doc Peterson is the farm vet who administered the medicine for her final breath.  (What a compassionate and generous soul he is!)  Next to me is a big bowl overflowing with her white fur.  Well, relatively white.  That dog did love dirt.  And bones.  Our yard will look bare in the spring, as often my Dad has to get the front loader to haul away the vast and interesting carnage collected over winter.

I’m looking forward to my Halloween Party & Concert at Jazz ’n’ Java in Willmar on the 30th.  You can even come for dinner!  I’ll be joined by Jerry, Bob Whitney, and Jon Hunter.  Other guests include Ron Hagemeyer, on scary organ and Orrin Tryon narrating poems and stories by Edgar Allen Poe. (Check my calendar for details.) To get in the mood I’ve been reading Poe’s creepy stories and surmised that the guy had quite a sense of humor.  Check out the amazing illustrations by Gris Grimly  in “Tales of Death and Dementia.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gris_Grimly)

Here’s a new poem:

INTERSECTION

It was over thirty years ago.

I still remember your face.

I was driving my Ford Falcon

 towards Commonwealth Avenue,

past the deli, the boutiques, cigar and bookstores,

my wIndows open to a warm fall day.

The  light changed to red.

I slowed.  I stopped.

You hobbled the cross walk, glaring.

I swear you looked straight at me as if to say, 

“I hate life and I hate you. And this is my damn road.”

I wondered if your scowling face had frozen 

and disgust was all that you could show,

so I vowed your visage would not be mine.

No.  I would smile and sing and saunter and love with abandon -

my skin supple, features warm and kind.

Now, in photos if I do not smile and say “cheese” quite broadly

I look sad, the corners of my mouth droop down.

Relaxed, I appear… defeated.

Is there some truth captured there?  A trace?

Regardless, this is my face.  To myself I must be kind.

But… would I see you differently today?

Would I see beyond that face to who you really are?