Sunday January 29th 2012 Tim
A person who gets past
January without lapsing, has his name penciled onto that heavenly tablet
Angels call "The Maybe's". Most years, by this time my name has
already been engraved upon that tablet Angels call "The Very Unlikely".
And there are only two days left, so this is not the time for me
to take pot shots at the Bloody Merlin whose morning routine has become
so regular I could "all things bright and beautiful" him at around seven
forty five in the morning.
He comes in from the
South, low over the field, and I can see him in the Maple tree staring
around, looking mean and suave like one of those beings who has managerial
potential and drives a Mercedes or a Cadillac, because anything else is
common. But my guys are pretty smart, except for the Blue Jays, who
see their chance to make some sort of pointless statement, which I have to
admire because I have been there too. Then he's low into the trees
north of here, where he pauses a while, just in case. It doesn't fool
anyone. Then the bastard is off, over the horizon and we all come out to play,
or make a fuss about who owns which Privet.