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Like Minds

Cramming it in 

In those places where David Attenborough goes and points a camera at a wild flower in a field where summer lasts just weeks, there is such intensity of life. Everything grows quickly. And he shows us impatient ones by filming all the grass and bugs and animals with a time-lapse camera so that we can see a week in a minute.

He’s usually wearing a parka because even in summer those places have wind made of small steel knives and probably the cameraman and the sound guy are wearing gloves. And we see patient life that slept for months under snow busting out and telling us - but actually not telling us, because we do not count for them, for them it is just about busting with life and living and doing what they can while they can in those few short weeks. All their life must cram into those moments before it all gets dark again. They have to squeeze the world of all its energy, that have to court and mate and give birth and eat and grow and make their special colour or noise or whatever it is they must do. All done now, while the light lasts. All is urgent.

Lucky we live forever.


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In the summer twilight,

a couple of hours after dinner,

we like to take a walk.
The birds have turned in.

The air has finally cooled,

but the crickets and katydids

are getting so worked up

that the lightning bugs catch fire

a few feet above the lawn,

just where we left them

when we were kids.


Now and then

we pass another couple

from one of the green, old,

more or less identical

streets of our neighborhood

as they move through the atmosphere,

mystical and obscure,

their voices softly registering

the news of the summer.

Good evening,

we say to each other.

Lovely night, isn't it.

What a scorcher, we say

with gratitude and affection

for this shared mystery

of being human

on this dark little planet,

on one of the slender,

gracefully swirling arms

of one of the smaller galaxies.


George Bilgere






Surely wearing no shoes has to be the very best thing about summer.

The souls of your feet moving from carpet to slate, to grass, to dirt, to sand; each time feeling the surfaces and knowing them in a new way. The heat of the sand, the cool of the grass.

Going barefoot has to be one of life’s great joys.

Splashing those same feet in water perhaps the highest joy.

For reasons that are too crazy and stupid to mention here, being nude and having all your skin alive to the elements is frowned upon in most places and is actually illegal in many. So, it is just our feet that can do it, those little rebels. Throwing off shoes isn’t quite as liberating as throwing off clothes but it might be the best hope we have in most places. If no one notices, you might even be able to get away barefoot in that great religious edifice, mall.

Liberate your skin. At least liberate your feet where and when you can.


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