Wednesday, September 17, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
SEPTEMBER 18, 2002
A hazy and grey day, laid out towards the season this is becoming. We applaud autumn for its refreshment of cool weather and the coming color, yet we forget this is an ending, a rolling up of things for winter, a putting by. What is gone is gone; what is gone comes back next year, the common atoms re-grouped and freshly bonded. Not ash, but light, as I want to believe.
The sun comes up later these days, the morning feels earlier, fresher as a result, though it is time to be at work. A place changes as its light changes. Light changes the trees, the plants, all the green breathing.
SEPTEMBER 18, 2002
A hazy and grey day, laid out towards the season this is becoming. We applaud autumn for its refreshment of cool weather and the coming color, yet we forget this is an ending, a rolling up of things for winter, a putting by. What is gone is gone; what is gone comes back next year, the common atoms re-grouped and freshly bonded. Not ash, but light, as I want to believe.
The sun comes up later these days, the morning feels earlier, fresher as a result, though it is time to be at work. A place changes as its light changes. Light changes the trees, the plants, all the green breathing.
