Saturday, December 8, 2007
Yesterday woke in STL
to come to AUS.
Now @ B & B,
sitting in the LR on an
easy chair facing
a little bronze cherub blowing
a trumpet. One leg is over a log
and, on the other, the knee
is brought up to the chest as
if needed to gather more strength
to welcome the day.
In the kitchen the hubby and his wife
whip a dozen eggs
for the quiche or omelet
that will be served on the white
tablecloth with fine china & crystal.
An idyllic world, contrasted
to all the other earthly worlds,
also orchestrated by g_d's mysterious
ways, that are laden with varieties
My thoughts of these other worlds,
where little girls do not blow their
horns, is quickly drowned out
by the intoxicating breakfast aromas
coming from the K in the B & B in AUS.
I told my grandson Charlie what my teacher told me 60 years ago... that a work of art is finished when none of the original idea remains. So...