Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Falling leaves...

Funny thing... there is only one person in my life who ever noticed, or at least told me she noticed, that I saw everything... everything as metaphor. Tonight, another night of dinner alone, oh, some three hundred and sixty some dinners alone generally... Took meself out to celebrate two nice recordings, sitting in the window at Odessa... and watching the leaves fall as winter commenced. I thought of this friend and tried not to see the falling leaves as metaphor. They where like nothing else that fell gently on the air, except, well ... snowflakes... there I was, thinking, and smiling about this friend and metaphors drifted down on the autumn breeze.... thinking about a friend who realized I float along in a world of metaphor.
And I smiled to think of this friend. And prayed that she was smiling as well, about anything.


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