A faint haze
in the early light. The stillness of the morning pond. A robin's song and other quietness across the sky. We have prayed for nothing; we received everything we need.
There was some rain last night, some dampness in the street now, here and there a puddle.
Cut glass separates the light into colors; the mind separates our hopes into plans and evaporation. Everywhere we turn, the insistent world.
Lilacs along Washington Street in full and fragrant bloom. A wet flag hangs down at the cemetery. A haziness in all directions; to the west, a thunderhead. In the heaviness of air I sweat, therefore I am.
At Five Corners the old, retired farmer works his flower beds. The cap he wears has a flap turned down to protect his neck against the sun, assuming that we'll see the sun this morning.
You moan with emotion for the earth. The earth moans too.