Our brains are looms of electrical cells
I think about you. The thought is stretched tight from one side of my brain to the other.
I think about the day before yesterday – the thought pulls tight crossways – and how you carried a mop and bucket up the stairs.
Remember the smell of wood burning and the delicate scent of pinecones? I draw that thread under and over and under again the thought of Christmastime, the house nearly ready for the party.
Another, unrelated: when I was a child, I always slept under the Christmas tree the first night after it was lit. Somehow, this thought slides easily over and under the one of you, halfway up the stairs, turning toward me, the bucket of hot water sloshing, your glasses reflecting this year’ s Christmas tree,
small bursts of light, firing randomly.
— Michele Pollock
22 Our Brown County • Nov./ Dec. 2026