our (prairie dog) town

 Look at that moon.  Potato weather for sure.

That’s what it was like to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those about you.  To spend and waste time as though you had a million years.  To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another.  Now you know-that’s the happy existence you wanted to go back to.  Ignorance and blindness.

Oh, Mama, that’s not what I mean.  What I mean is:  am I pretty?

 We all know that something is eternal.  And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars….everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings.  All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it.  There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.

Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

Do human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?

No.  Saints and poets, maybe……they do some.

People are meant to go through life two by two.  ‘Tain’t natural to be lonesome.

The morning star always gets wonderful bright  the minute before it has to go, doesn’t it?

So-people a thousand years from now-this is the way we were:  in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and in our dying.

the end