Epiphany

 January 6, 2025

Epiphany. Almost incredibly inclement outside, with high winds from the north and swirling veils of grainy snow. The ground and low air skitter with robins. I’m glad I don’t rake my leaves, for they’re scratching around under them trying to find sustenance. They gather on my east porch, a little out of the full brunt of the wind. Little birds, sparrows and wrens and my handsome towhees, shelter in the tangle of raspberry stalks I leave outside the bedroom window, where I can see them from my bed. The wind and the trees and the birds all move in various directions, making the earth turbulent to behold. 

I’ve been keeping this journal for 56 years. 

Looking up JG’s house, I strayed onto mine, discovering a bounty of former owners, and that my roof was new in 2005. All the photos online are from before I moved in, but as the place was when I first saw it. Certain listings cite my father’s care facility in Alpharetta and my former PO box downtown as former residences. 

Wind howling like Coleridge’s poem, and like Yeats’.