Monday Morning Musings:
I have more to say about shadows and light and . . .
age-old questions. The chicken or the egg?
The egg, of course. But before that?
How about light?
It was there before stars, scientists say,
as they inquire and test,
while I’m left—simply pondering
the quantum strings and shades of black-and-white.
How to describe such ancient light
in that time before? Then move on–
have you considered our volcanic existence,
how we erupted from the sea
from stellar grit to ammonite then pinniped? In a blink,
or a flutter
of butterfly’s wing—the randomness, the chaos,
dust to mud,
where does summer hide when winter’s cold winds blow?
My thoughts are far from towering, I confess,
reflections on riddles, the stuff of dreams—foretell and forget–
a leap into the unknown, but sweep away the cobwebs,
what is left?
Nothing dashing, impressive—more like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.
But really, where do the fawn’s spots go? How long can a heron stand
so quiet and still?
Sit awhile in on the hill. Do you see?
The way it glows. The way the shadows caress its curves? Do you feel how
the breeze kisses your cheek so tenderly like a mother?
Listen as the river sings the song of what is and what might be.
Now the geese float atop cotton ball clouds in the mirrored blue, sailing
on light, through shadows, into tomorrow—
the place of questions, dreams, and shadows.
But for shadows to exist, there must also be light,
and so again, we begin.
I’m posting early today with something a bit different. I actually wrote most of this yesterday, and I used Jane’s Random Words
We had beautiful weather for the past week. Today it’s very humid with some rain and possible thunderstorms. It feels icky (a precise scientific term) outside right now.
We went to Vino and Vibes at William Heritage Winery with friends on Thursday night. It was a beautiful evening—perfect weather and company (and wine). We’re watching the second season of For all Mankind.