Social Isolation: Day 33
Give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name, I quote to kids. They get it, love to write about their Giggling Pig, their Black House Road, Aunt Maud. Maybe, as an exercise, I will unknow the names of things, wait for them to tell me who they are. I named this day windy, wet, gray, and Tom outside to batten hatches down. I could walk backwards through that naming— Saxon, Latin, Greek, the Neolithic—to a shimmery, airy nothing and the silence that it speaks. But though there are a few sounds lacking grace and generosity I hope to never hear again, I am a language-making primate and welcome back that rush of words that clamors to get in: wind, wet, road, love, local habitation. Sherry Robbins, April 19, 2020
Sherry Robbins 
Lovely
Sent from my iPhone
>
LikeLike
Thank You, Al!
LikeLike