So...Chicago

Here I am in Illnois.  Full of snow this place is.  A beautiful sky, creamy light yellow grey snow sky.  There are fireplaces, and red wine.  Tractor trailor trucks thrum down the highway outside and then sunset happens.  In the middle of the afternoon the sky explodes in color.  The snow has stopped falling and purple and orange throw themselves to the horizon.  I gaze over the highway, the parking lots, the hotels and the bustle of folks so far below me.  There it is...Sunset.  The same as it ever was, reminding me that where this life takes me I will always appreciate what this great earth provides.  

113th Birthday

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

BY LANGSTON HUGHES
I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

    To write is to show our nakedness.   It is to reveal, to understand, to ply our souls.    To love and be loved within that understanding is the most thrilling and arduous work of the soul.   My soul has grown deep like the rivers.  Happy Birthday dear sir.