Friday, August 29, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
AUGUST 30, 2002
Blue sky. Some leaves have fallen, small, brown, like discarded candy wrappers.
Everything you want, you've got on a morning like this - a cool loveliness and light. As if all prayers have been answered. As if you can give everything away and become a monk. As if holiness will save you.
Heavy dew is honey-bright in the sunlight. I enjoy the morning.
In the field where sea gulls had been sitting ealier this week, the ground has been worked up, bare dirt now, black like the tail of night, like a crow's sadness.
AUGUST 30, 2002
Blue sky. Some leaves have fallen, small, brown, like discarded candy wrappers.
Everything you want, you've got on a morning like this - a cool loveliness and light. As if all prayers have been answered. As if you can give everything away and become a monk. As if holiness will save you.
Heavy dew is honey-bright in the sunlight. I enjoy the morning.
In the field where sea gulls had been sitting ealier this week, the ground has been worked up, bare dirt now, black like the tail of night, like a crow's sadness.
