Last Night.

I'm sitting here in the light of the tree on the very cusp of the morning of the last night of the year with more icy rain than was forecast falling outside, and all I can think is: this is good. Even without downspouts on the outbuilding, this is good. This is how it goes right here at the dead damn bottom of the year. There is a woodstove. There is the stewing idea of a blackeyed-peas-and-pork stew for tomorrow, or for the First. There is the way things go, goddamnit. There. I said it. There is the way things go. This is the way things go. A new year. A new building. A new woodstove, installed by a dude who said, in response to my urging him not to cut the shit out of himself, I hope I don't. I'm on a lot of blood thinners.

May we all make it around the corner of the new year.