Such a sunrise. Driving out to meet the school bus, the contours of the landscape made into lines by the early mist; the trees drawn with such a fine pencil against the light. The sun red on the horizon, not moving for that first stretch over the high ground, then as we went down into the lane, the tunnel of road closed over by the trees, the horizontal bars of light. Stretches of wet grass where the bus was waiting, the sea in the distance, the sun getting its act together and properly bright.
This room full of light from the end window, laid over everything and now slowly withdrawing like a tide. The bushes moving in the window ahead of me; there's a wind coming round the South end of the house. Consider this line, from a poem by Maya Stein, found while I was in Canada. "But what can I say? I am more river than rest, more flesh than bone." I think I am warming to technology: the use people were making, in that convention centre, of their devices. I have seen the other side, but there are two sides.
The obligation to know these things, fully, without judgement. But the pull to a means rather than an end; the distraction and comfort of scene-setting. And the day ahead. Silence, the bushes moving, bright light, a barometer that says clouds and rain. A chill that, this time of year, is to be described as Autumnal. This thought: trust, and/or faith, we'll use your word, is of greater value when it is tested, partly because that is when it is needed, but also, partly and more importantly, because that is when it is proved.
The River is always deep, always full of stillness as it moves. Sometimes, when the light catches it just so, you can see the colours of the depths, and the movement itself.
This room full of light from the end window, laid over everything and now slowly withdrawing like a tide. The bushes moving in the window ahead of me; there's a wind coming round the South end of the house. Consider this line, from a poem by Maya Stein, found while I was in Canada. "But what can I say? I am more river than rest, more flesh than bone." I think I am warming to technology: the use people were making, in that convention centre, of their devices. I have seen the other side, but there are two sides.
The obligation to know these things, fully, without judgement. But the pull to a means rather than an end; the distraction and comfort of scene-setting. And the day ahead. Silence, the bushes moving, bright light, a barometer that says clouds and rain. A chill that, this time of year, is to be described as Autumnal. This thought: trust, and/or faith, we'll use your word, is of greater value when it is tested, partly because that is when it is needed, but also, partly and more importantly, because that is when it is proved.
The River is always deep, always full of stillness as it moves. Sometimes, when the light catches it just so, you can see the colours of the depths, and the movement itself.