We snap back into routine,
we the pliable humans. They say the cockroach is infinitely resilient and will inherit the earth. well, man too is resilient and flexible and plastic. And smart. Inch by inch we conquer a wild planet. Inch by inch we conquer space. I'm not saying this is good or bad: the fact is, we can, we do. We shall no doubt encounter ones who are more and greater than we are. We shall be plastic enough to befriend them, won't we? I don't want to think we will be ever combative throughout the universe, though I'm afraid that possibility is open before us. The same road takes us to heaven and to hell.
A smell of pigs or corn silage in the morning air. Dew on the windshield is moisture, not frost. The air is crisp and sharp as an Italian squeeze-box. We all have to re-tune a little bit higher today.
There are clouds today but we can see the sun, too. Its long light is like blonde hair falling on the shoulders of the earth.
At the Weinkauf place, large mushrooms. Out in the country, a clear sky to the far west. In the east, I swear I see steam rising like a mushroom cloud. It comes up a few degrees south of due east, so it would not be a Two Rivers Nuclear Power Plant mushroom cloud. Where does it originate, and why?
Geese stitch our skies these days.
The strong smell of pigs again, at the Sina pig farm. They have put liquid manure onto an empty field. Did the wind carry the smell all the way to Fairwater?
A domestic duck and its several ducklings waddle their little butts on the shoulder of the road just south of Five Corners. The old man and his cigar are tending to the flowerbeds at Five Corners again this morning. He looks like he should be gutting a deer, not taking care of flowers. The human heart is wonderful and various and you shouldn't judge a man by his denim overalls and his farm coat.
The day has started nicely. If you scritch the belly of the sky, perhaps the beast will purr.
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