I ate an ice cream sandwich, so good and delicious, and today life is good, life is delicious, to take a chunk of peanut butter, ice milk, living history, farms laughing brooks when I was four, and my father took me fishing for brown trout, nothing like brown trout from uncle Lloyd's creek, hiss and sizzle with the frying pan making good lunches, and suppers, the long days, and uncle Clair's cows, the squirt of fresh milk from the teat , those cows feeding and being milked, eighty or so brown cows, and we had pitchers of fresh milk for lunch, living out that long summer vacation, livid with the cousins, I was always excited, and the girls let me ride a bull, the bull was saddled, they called him Old Red, belief, and give, they were God fearing people; I had no notion of what they meant, God revealed to me now, God living in each living cell, morsel of food, we live another day.
The small creek slim and glinting over rock, riverlets, and real water, pure, like the enunciation of summer, and I created dinner, two cornish hens for my love, stuffing for the small birds, strawberry cheesecake, fresh green seedless grapes, delicate and pungent at time, and this was our anaversary of 27 years on June 12, 2009.
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