Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Monday, January 02, 2006
2006 -- The Year Of Letting Go
January 1, 2006, I opened the door the let the chickens out of the pen and the three chicks stirred from their sleep on the lowest level of the roost. Their mother was near the top of the roost, back with her peers. I had noticed the day before that their mother ran out alone when it was free-range time. She abandoned them in the pen. They were looking at each other to find some direction. One decided to go out the gate and the other two followed. Last night when it was time to close the chickens in the hen house, they were all in except for the three chicks. I could not herd them into the pen. If I managed to get one going the right direction, the other two would run in two different directions. I stood back thinking surely they would notice they were the only chickens outside and go looking for the rest. They did not. They continued to eat and play and go their own way which was no where near the pen. Finally I got them inside. I remembered scouring the apartment complex when Tandy and Chelle were little and allowed to play outside with their friends. They knew it was time to come in -- but the magnetic universe has a tremendous pull.
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