Morning seems touched by the sun today, brightly, freely, serenely. Or is it morning that touches sun?
And the moon last night in a clear purple sky, fully nearly full, then crossed by a drift of clouds, casting a strange halo of yellow-orange-white-blue: What touched what? And me?
Here I am in any case. Meanwhile.
Thinking of daily news, bombs, ballots, ballets, balls…
And this daily news: As autumn, the season of falling away, deepens, winter chill nears: There can not be one without the other. As with everything: There is no « with » without « without, » and there is no « without » without « with. »
With these words, I am not dancing on a pin, as we say. I’m using words (which are by nature limited) to express what is limitless: autumn full of autumn, winter full of winter, moon, clouds, sun, morning, me all bursting. Meanwhile.