Happy new year!

    The bonfires are lit in my dreamscape.  Night begins, and this year's reaping is finished.  A huge flock of little grey birds fly south, coming off the river trees and sweeping in a massive wave by the whim of the wind.  Following on their heels is the breath that burns and scatters any berry or fruit left unharvested. 

    & nbsp;He joins no festivals this year; not dressing as demon- with vapour on the breath, to dance the wild dance and chase the maidens.  Instead; a still, gaunt man stands in the whipping chill.  Heavy coat and cold fists, radiating from his heart and gut a gratitude to the pieces of his world that have died these past seasons.

     It will be a winter to tend a new fire, for the first time.  May the core of my bones remember the salamander that keeps them warm...

It lives inside, and cannot be bought.

Happy Samhain --Zeke

Winter is creeping up.  I feel it in my feet and hands, a type of soreness and stiffening.  It sticks to me when I come inside, and waits in my pockets like a dead pet.  The wind has been meticulously ripping the leaves off the trees like wings from a fly.  It drizzles lightly in the evening while small drone bees are pushed from the hive to freeze. 

Business as usual for the animal world.  I inhale deeply the fall air and remember it will get cold enough to freeze nose hairs and blacken body parts.  I think about thick boots, wool bibs, and a my parka with a coyote fur hood.

Down by the river you can see the other animals tracks when snow falls.  Mouse, rabbit, human, dog, deer; all on business, some more sensible than others.

I will be out there too, reading stories in the snow.

It's been about a month since I last wrote.  Well, what's been going on- you may or may not ask.

I'm back with the community acting troup, and we're working on our next production.  It's a vaudevillian murder mystery written by one the crew.  I get to be a pig farmer.  I'm strappin back on my bib overalls and lettin my thick-headed wit flap in the wind amongst the rich, brown smell of pig. . . breath.

I'm also in a bit of a rush preparing for teen read week, and apply for an NEH grant.  The annual booksale just got wrapped up, and am I glad.  Had fun at it, got way too many books.  Our youth dept organized it this year (yup, all 3 of us plus one who moved to circ), and I love it when a plan comes together.  Especially when it's been cooked up by childrens' librarians.

Question for anyone out there.

Who is Kurt Vonnegut's alter ego?

Has anyone else written as this character and gotten published?