Again, a dream with a mouse in it. This one (dark gray and narrow) at the bottom of old stairs. I neither climbed nor descended them, merely passed them while moving quickly elsewhere. The mouse was pulling on a nightcrawler which then escaped. It bore no sign of bodily damage. I continued on beneath a rickety boardwalk. Thinking as I went, why is it the mouse does not pursue the crawler. And realized it was likely because of me - my stomping feet etc. I was not alone but who was I with.
The right blend of sun and rain create a luscious green in Spring. Walking yesterday was at times traversing an emerald tunnel. Canopied trails we shared with newts. Moose tracks again but older. A flock of geese circled the pond and we hunkered near laurel waiting to watch them land. Mergansers in the distance. The truth is that on half a dozen walks there are half a dozen stones I know and by which measure those travels.
Lilac is richer in the morning as the sun rises through veils. A plethora of blue jays, always crows. By what miracle is the duck healed, the day marked.
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