Prognosis

I’ve had my access to my site significantly curtailed last week, as the powers that be at the facility where I work have chosen to block my usage on the system. I’m not one of their employees, and my time is my own, but there it is. (If you want to see the worst of human nature, give little people a little power.) As a result, I’ve been very restricted in my ability to visit with you. My apologies, as well as my loss. Now, I’m in the process of packing for a business trip to Washinngton D.C. tomorrow, and won’t be back until the end of next week. For the those faithful who come by to visit, I leave you the following poem:

 

PROGNOSIS

 

The fear, to call it by name, like wind

Waking me from tentative sleep

I’d give almost anything to keep,

Is this: That you’ll be gone, my friend.

 

It could just as easily be true

That I’d be blown away instead

And you, lying awake in bed,

Would have the wind to listen to.

 

Though soon enough one of us will

Go first where both must go from here,

A fact it does no good to fear,

For now, at least, the wind is still.

 

Don Thompson

 

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