Stigmata

 Yesterday Darius drove me to Church on long Island. With John. Near the Church I saw some grackles. Mass was beautiful.

Last night I had many dreams, but I only remember one. I dreamed I had the stigmata and was looking at the wounds in my hands. My dreams were pleasant, they were not dreams of despair. I am no Padre Pio. I may have mentioned that my uncle's father met Padre Pio and was his driver for a short while in Italy during the war. He saw his wounds.

The gold finches must live near my house, because again I saw them, three or four of them, hanging around by the flowers in our front yard. When I went out and when I came back they greeted me.

On my second walk for the first time in a long time, I saw the grackles down by Liberty Avenue I saw two big ones up in a tall tree. Only two. It was good to see them. I was wondering where they were.