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Creek Running North

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September 24, 2004

The creek mouth

I got a phone call, someone asking about an ad in a back issue of the Earth Island Journal. I found the ad, gave her the info, and she asked me if I knew offhand of any similar businesses.
"Not really: I don't really deal with the advertisers too much. My job is compiling all the bad news that goes between the ads."
"You're the bad news guy, huh? How long have you had that job?"
"This job, two and a half years about. But I've been doing the same thing for twelve years."
She was silent for a moment. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
I didn't.
"How do you get out of bed in the morning?"
It was my turn to be silent for a moment. "Um. Well. I can answer that. Can I read you something?" She said I could, and so I did.
She chuckled. "I should confess something. I'm calling from Italy. I went through a bit of a crisis a little while ago over too much bad news. And some friends wrote me and told me I should come stay with them here, enjoy life with them for a while. And they sent me a poem in that letter. That one."

Posted by Chris Clarke at September 24, 2004 09:34 PM TrackBack URL for this entry:
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decorative line of bighorn petroglyphs

Comments

.This poem is popping up everywhere 4 me. I found it in the MCC San Fransisco site (www.mccsf.org) and now here. I took it out for a walk yesterday and saw a fox. It came up the hill below where I was sitting under an olive tree and sat down to rest under the olive there. So I re-read the poem and felt even better.A bit like the wren only without the danger of your subsequent post (though I know that one too - no feeling like it)

Posted by: foxwatcher at September 27, 2004 09:21 PM
decorative line of bighorn petroglyphs