"There is life, then there are words about life," reflects on the inherent existence of life before any words are used to describe or interpret it. It suggests a distinction between the raw, lived experience and the language used to communicate about it.

The quote is mine, the interpretation is Google AI

 ~

lin's history comes to her in bits

as more stories

are written and revealed

is becoming whole   fewer gaps

she is almost there

she remembers her two sisters

one playful

and lively   playing all the childhood games

the other   boy crazy   already

a young woman at ten

lin wonders if she was lively

or boy crazy

thinks not   cannot imagine herself

any way other than as she is   

a spirit unfettered   yet to be defined

~

colin works the vineyard   

works hard

lin works for a caterer   works hard   hence   mutual respect

she has taken to him as an older-brother figure

his thirty-four to her twenty-two

we've taken to spending sunday and monday at the vineyard   

her days off

where they walk the rows talking

or not talking   i am not privy to their time together

clearly there is a bond

~

they know they appear in the poems

as does marketa

as do i

we accept it as our reality

it is often a good reality   and happy

we are sheltered to the point of 

questioning free will

but understand we are not unique in that way

we bleed when cut   are denied no feelings

that may be reality enough for anyone

~

in the evenings   as i've written a million times

we meet on the patio

colin comes in from work

dusty and tired   red banana   as always

keeping back the blonde hair

yenny comes from the kitchen   colin's grandfather

holding the center

often defining the tenor of the conversation   

marketa quiet   lin alert   myself observing

observing my family

what goes on beyond these words

matters   of course   

but only in theory   it is the one advantage we hold

there is no promise that it will always be this way

our future   like yours   yet to be written

~ 

we find ourselves here   our futures yet to be written 

what of it

we have our lives to live and live them

colin is holding a tissue to the back of his hand

dabbing at a cut

colin's grandfather is telling lin how the hills

of golden oaks roll to the sea   

to the pacific   

marketa is grading papers

occasionally adding to the conversation

yenny talks of the news of the day   little of it good   

but she finds the good   

i listen

~

these hours are the reward for the week's work

all the verbiage    

the fiction/reality construct   doesn't matter   

everyone lives out their days

in such a construct 

what is real   what is illusion   it’s all a big guessing game   

we get on with it   living   doing the best we can