He had fooled himself into believing his life was one of order and symmetry, only to look out and see the ruts left by last night’s rain.

He had read thousands of poems by the Miltons and Shakespeares of the world, and counted himself lucky to have written a limerick worth repeating.   As with everyone else he knew, he had tried to stay young, and had failed in this quest with such flair it was all he could do to look in the mirror.   He had read himself into a greater awareness of his own ignorance than had seemed possible, and this awareness only prompted him to read more than ever.   Such were the thoughts brought on by the ruts in the road following last night’s rain.   Finding beauty in a rainbow is easy, but finding beauty in ruts, well, that takes some doing.   Springhouse, P. O. Box 8, Herod, IL 62947