The Wise Grasshopper

Grasshopper, this bundled month, I made homemade apricot jam ratherthan spend time on edits.Editing my book is like a patriotic parade,with funereal slowness. A sad march.Characters are intimate friends. I’m sensitive to their needs.They want me to linger.
But I’m going swimming.Plug in the fan,turn on the air.I’m crocheting a blanket.Reading a book with dreary characters.Local play rehearsals are my new diversion.Town had a historic bell-ringing celebration. Glad I could make it.There’s the woman’s group,the city meeting at Elks,and of course,church.
Jittery dogs need a walk.Reruns on television.It doesn’t seem fair to repeat quiz shows, though my answers sound impressive.I’d rather be an ear to a friend. Their drama better than mine.I’m not complaining. But there’s something about this summer,That’s kept me praying.
A sudden shift in normal--perhaps just the alignment of the stars--in the warmed-up sky. One neighbor sailed away forever.Our home shook on the Fourth of July.You were here, as if to warn us,centered on the gate.
Anyway, labels.I need to make stickers for jam jars.
Go work on my manuscript?What is wrong with you?No wonder I took your photo.