Wednesday, July 23, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
JULY 24, 2002
Today's coolness brings cloud cover. There is breeze in the trees. All life turns with the movement of a single leaf. Nothing is more important in the cosmos than the motion of that single leaf in the breeze. The Big Bang is of no more consequences than this instance. Every moment is filled with every other moment.
As I leave for work, I meet an orange county truck at the north edge of Fairwater. What does that mean? You know it means something.
The sky breaks open to its true blueness. The sun shows. There are still smeared clouds, don't doubt that.
A field of beans has been taken now. The season marches on. The corn reaching for mercy looks more plastic than real now - the heat has taken the edge of reality off the stalks, and the image of these damaged leaves is all that's left.
JULY 24, 2002
Today's coolness brings cloud cover. There is breeze in the trees. All life turns with the movement of a single leaf. Nothing is more important in the cosmos than the motion of that single leaf in the breeze. The Big Bang is of no more consequences than this instance. Every moment is filled with every other moment.
As I leave for work, I meet an orange county truck at the north edge of Fairwater. What does that mean? You know it means something.
The sky breaks open to its true blueness. The sun shows. There are still smeared clouds, don't doubt that.
A field of beans has been taken now. The season marches on. The corn reaching for mercy looks more plastic than real now - the heat has taken the edge of reality off the stalks, and the image of these damaged leaves is all that's left.
