Thanksgiving.

The deafening quiet.

Sleep in a little
It’s a relative sleep-in
Up before seven.

Where we headcount the living.

This is us today:
Six humans, a cat, a goat.
One salamander.

She moves and joy shakes the earth.

Justin Biebs going bump bump
why not kick off Xmas jams?
Becc shakes sexy rump.

The fixer.

Me and my old boy
fixing our old typewriters.
Our fingers stained black.

Thank you, Vitalik.

Etherium up
Forty-five hundred and change.
Big-B fifty-nine.

Relax.

On a monolith
clamber up Gorge icon
eat pie at the top.

Hike-sing.

Little voices loud,
loud on trail; Moana
sung with joy so loud.

Top of a rock.

Take pics for strangers
shared moments on holiday
once, never again.

Bob.

Come see! my son says.
His salamander eats slug.
I leave to make food.

Marx/all hands on deck.

If you want to eat,
then you help make what we eat.
So, all hands help lots.

Pies, part 1.

I could make them fast,
and they would taste pretty good,
or…small boys could help.

Pies, part 2.

They pour and measure,
scoop, stir, laugh, spill, argue, laugh.
They are my pie boys.