Eclipse seen at Ugarit

Ere dawn. I'm warming myself from winter-weather with hot spiced mead, taters, German Weisswurst, leeks, log-grown shitakes, scrambled eggs, quinoa-cakes, and soft inner cat-tail stems on this May 9th anniversary of the solar eclipse of 1012 BC. Am singing back and forth with a singer, songs by heart.

Ere sunset. In sunlit grass. Exchange of songs, stories, whinnies and whimsies with person patient enough to laugh at my spilling a half bottle of kefir inside my leather satchel and cleaning out the gooey contents on the green ground.

Ere Moonday. Pease (that's singular) soup, superb with just firm (just so) carrots. Just so stories. But this story, so written, was also so done. Snuggled over divan, bounded past the threshold, eves of the chamber, O'Murchadh's night-stead.

Afterfreeze. Moonday. Thank God moon is veiled. Nearly new, makes me unblue. I feel so warm inside when so cold out. Summermonth brings wet not het. Summer-me is all het. I only masochistically enjoyed my cycle ride in the bone-shivering rain, but loved the sacks of vittles I got out of it (from Asian foodstore)