Ground Time . . . Brief

After sharing about Laurie's life yesterday, I am just a little stuck on the concept of time and just how valuable it is and how the amount of it we each have is truly unknown. Maxine Kumin's poem came to mind. So here it is:

Our Ground Time Here Will Be Brief

Blue landing lights make
nail holes in the dark.
A fine snow falls. We sit
on the tarmac taking on
the mail, quick freight,
trays of laboratory mice,
coffee and Danish for
the passengers.

Wherever we're going
is Monday morning.
Wherever we're coming from
is Mother's lap.
On the cloud-packed above, strewn
as loosely as parsnip
or celery seeds, lie
the souls of the unborn:

my children's children's
children and their father.
We gather speed for the last run
and lift off into the weather.


My desire is to value time and to recognize every day the treasure that time is. Moments like these, when we've said "goodbye" to a friend, cause time to be enormously full of worth.

Good night from Southern California,
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka