from MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL: DECEMBER 3, 1998

Another grey day, a hint

of fog in the air. Almost a thin moisture on the driveway and street, a thin layer on the windshield of the pick-up. The pond is ice-free. It is 50 degrees out, or more. How long shall I be able to write sentences like these?

Out in the country - the thin haze rolls away in all directions. This is December? Yes. Yes, it is. In the east, the sun has set the clouds on fire.

At the south edge of Ripon, where Skyline and Highway E meet, two young women walk, vigorous and forceful. They are smiling and their smiles are not yet creased. They feel their muscles. The quiver of flesh. They love their lives.

In the parking lot at work, the strong smell of skunk. The signature of an angry skunk, writ large on the morning air.