Before you have your dreams, your dreams have you, and every day pushes a night before it while the wilderness follows. - William Stafford

Storm Warning

Something not the wind shakes along far
like a sky truck in low gear
over Oregon. Like the shore wind baying along through fir
but not now the wind, no, not really so,
it is a new weight and force
that begins to blow.

This winter they'll still call it wind and let it explore;
and when they talk it over next summer there by the shore,
along through the scrub and salal the new something will range.
In a hurry, late, it won't wait for the air.

In the fall again they'll remember, each of them, back to now.
They'll no longer call it wind, they'll want it all changed.
They'll want it all different then, but they won't know how.

In every town we lived in, there was one great big door ready to open for anyone — the library. And I never met a library I didn’t like.

I'll be Pavlov, you be the dog.