The lilac dulls, a reminder of the degree to which beauty is yoked to time. We are always sacrificing, until we are not.
Morning light along the horizon a softness, a blur. Notice how violets do not rage, violets do not object.
Our correspondence takes the shape of children learning they are no longer children. In the attic, in a box of books, a dead bat.
A sentence, a sorrow. Coffee deepens the prayer until all the clarity mind can bear streams like holiness unto the world.
Steve's insights about perspective with respect to protest. It's late but we synergize, and our synergizing is sexual.
And what would the Lord say about your love, which evolves in time? A decision to allow ecstasy to appear as grace, and grace as just a guy who's happy with his girl.
Slowing down. Lugging mulch hay to the garden, passing Jeremiah lugging manure to the potato garden.
Turkey vultures. Bald eagles.
In the middle of the night, one hears the river beyond the pasture. Last first kiss, last first firefly, last first love.
Distances, dystopias, divergences. This confusion, this blossom, this way to end all ways.