justwrite 2 november

In this case this space is full of shoppers like a hopper full of popcorn a Sunday morning and a little after straight from the lurch of lunch after church, for the cupboards are bare and families are staring straight into the working week to which they may or may not be welcomed but it’s helping itself to their time which is no crime but a calendar already subscribed to whether you hide through a fallback hour or spring beyond ahead full of sleep creeping into the creep-out savings of daylight a hayride up the hill to mounting concerns unearned through turns churning up the altitude—but not to be rude: you’ve brewed your cup and you’re ready to drink up the rest of the thought so I ought to resume the tune I started singing before leaning into a different key and stumbling through an unlocking door once more and reaching through the breach, dear friend and King Henry, too. Anyway, to peer past those great shakes, please pardon my mistakes. So Sunday it is and this seems to be the day of creation, though investigating the situation leads to the conclusion that this could be confusion for isn’t that the seventh day and god rested or bested whatever was left of the schedule? In that case, the first day was Monday, so it’s not too surprising that this was tucked away as a fact and packed into the second slot on most calendars ever bought—But in this case, our story traces its origin and its species to a Darwin-like dawning, to the survival of those rivals and friends extending their reach to the beachwide sunrise of Sunday.