LITTLE ACHES

On Sunday the offsprung gang headed back up north; since then all has quietly been filling with discovered memories to step on, stumble over, suddenly notice: a balloon here, a withered wildflower bouquet there, a small white stone, a ball, a robot under the woodstove, a plum pit, tiny pearjuice handprints on the glass doors...

So much of life is built on little aches of the heart --