The big whale of an ego is flowing out of this man's head, but there are still remnants of the "committee" nearby. Their nonstop chatter sounds like this: "Don't you have better things to do? Why are you wasting your time? Do you think anyone really appreciates this sacrifice?" Sundays I spend with my mother-in-law, who has the beginning stages of dementia. Some days are better than others; yet there have been more than a few times I wanted to scream in frustration and run out the door. I have to constantly remind myself it is the disease that says and does those exasperating things, not the woman I once knew.
In our area, I only get to see Baltimore orioles briefly, as they migrate through our area. Females construct sock-like hanging nests, which tie in nicely with the Hanged Man. The creators of this deck associate this bird with compassion, probably because of its love for sweet things - ripe fruits and nectar. That word reminded me of a poem I wrote many years ago about the ferns we have on our front porch steps:
Masses of green fronds
Sprout from my brick steps.
It's a mystery,
How these ferns survive between the cracks.
What nurtures and sustains them?
Perhaps my love and gratitude
Encourage them to thrive.
I wonder what effect,
This same love and gratitude
Would have on a human?

