
wildflowers hide
in a tiny valley
between granite slabs.

wildflowers hide
in a tiny valley
between granite slabs.
I’d like to go back to see the death of Julius Caesar to learn if his final words were truly, “Et tu, Brute” or the more likely, “Oww! Stop stabbing me already!” (Vah! Noli me amplius vulnerare.)

withered daisies
approach season’s end,
but retain charm.
Uh, the only instance of which I’m aware that anybody has ever “had to get a tattoo right now” was in Nazi concentration camps (and the like,) and they were not given a choice of subject matter. As I can’t imagine the scenario in which I had no say in having something etched on my body, but I could choose what was depicted, I don’t think it’s a meaningful question.
I like Groundhog Day because it’s a beautiful reminder that any old pudgy rodent is as good as the smartest human / computer combination at making forecasts about the future. More than Thanksgiving, it’s the holiday that forces some humility upon us.