Those crisp Lincolnshire mornings

We've had snow (sort of) these last few days and I got out my warm "Chicago" coat this morning. There is a hint of dawn on the horizon. Different. Definitely. East on I-70 as the sun goes up and West as it sets. Just as before, only at home in darkness.

I forgot how refreshing the cold is. And as beautiful as the still-night sky is this morning, the moon stiill out and the last few stars, as I go warm up my car (the true thermometer, it is not really cold until your car is hard to start) I can't help but think of all those crisp blue mornings driving North on the Edens, across the spur, through the trees of Riverwoods. The jet contrails into ORD. The frozen swamps of Lake County, feet and feet and snow, the frozen lake (was it a quarry lake) and all the Canadian goose shit on stomped down sidewalks on the Hewitt campus. Bigger than you would think.

Happy times. Sad times. Mood swings. Meds changes. Mania.

Once again we approach Thanksgiving and the dreaded Equinox.

Pinned by chemistry and angle of the sun.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

It is a Frost morning

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.