I also believe in trying and in questions.
Trying is the fuel that powers all of mankind. It is the way to the moon, the sun and the stars.
Questions are what determines the fuel, the hows and whens.
The nows the thens.
I also believe in parks at night in late spring and early fall. They just feel more like home then. And are amongst my finest memories kicking a hackey sac, tossing a Frisbee, figuring out life. These memories are rich like the cremma sitting atop my espresso. I can still taste the sand and grass. I can still smell the approaching rain and hear the distant roll of thunder.
I remember well.
Those times are upon us again. Just another year older.
The summer sun worshipers have hidden away in pants and sweaters and only come out at mid day like reverse vampires. We lay in the shadows at night, embracing the cold and dreaming of what is to come. They hide from the moon.
We embrace its luster.
The pendulum keeps swinging and the scythe keeps cutting the wheat. The world rages on, spinning and accelerating through space and time. The man who best managed his time receives no prize and sits in the same waiting room as us all in the end.
We realize as we age, that we can't be everything all the time. All we can do is try our hardest and do our best. We learn to forgive ourselves when we can't do either.
I nod and some water off the back.
I feel the summer creeping in and the winter hiding in secret high mountain passes waiting to dash the dreams of the the equinox waiting. I feel the surge from the muse within pulsing it's way through my day to day.
Today, a trailer broke and crashed to the street as I was driving, of course, and with a heavy load, also goes with out saying. Some years ago i would have panicked and stressed my way into a frenzy of why me's and what now's. The many seasons have erroded that emotion from my practical thoughts. Shit certainly happens Forrest Gump! I calmly pulled over and found a huge parking spot in front of the MOTHER OF GOD! parking lot and placed palm of hand to face then quietly moved on to an extraction plan. No cursing, no pounding the steering wheel, no shaking fists at a fictional man in his bath robe sitting on a white cloud. With age comes the realization that such exertions cause cancer and ulcers.
I laughed at myself, my situation and  at MOTHER OF GOD!
Tonight my body aches from a day of fixing and shoveling. My mind races and sleep will not come easy.
Think of the Snow falling silently in the Forrest and the moments of clarity on the edge.
Smell the coming rain. Breathe it in deep and know that there are many more storms brewing.

1000 words!
I got one
Spring!
There is nothing in this world as big as spring
Are you weary of the lengthening days?
Do you secretly wish for Novembers rain
And the harvest moon to reign in the sky(now that it's June)?
There is nothing in this world more bitter than spring.
Now I wrote you this letter
Because the clothes were hung on the line
and the crows flew out of the field.
and into the sky.
I'm lying here in the station
stretching out on the tracks
for all the possible places I might arrive.
There is nothing in this world more bitter than love.
In all those long days of June.
Bring me the long brown grass now that it's dry.
There is nothing in this world more bitter than Spring.

and all her favorite fruit.
I start my spring like Camper Van Beethoven. Enjoying the rainy nights and the lullaby of thunder. Embracing the final cold in a long wet kiss, but I still think to the fall. To the end of my struggle and the beginning of my true year.
I listen to Key Lime Pie and contemplate the lyrics like a theologian meditating on the Tao Te Ching.
The space travelers are coming. They are becoming more clear in my mind and they haunt my dreams. I wake up in a sweat to take some notes then try to slumber back to where I left off.
It is coming, the other guy.
Our Spring is here.
Maybe we will never be Heinlein and Asimov or Niven and Pournnelle, but we will most definitely be Rollinger and Carder... unless we take pen names. Spellcheck wants to change your name to Dillinger and mine to Gardner, so maybe we roll with that.

Let's do some Whiskey fire.
Off to sleep to dream of the faces of the bell travelers.