The clouds seem close in the muggy air, but the warmth of the day confuses my sense of the weather. Will the rain fall or will the clouds tease us once again? -this eternal drought continuing into another week – internalizing.
The geese are honking far off, and the lone lawn mower has kept up his constant growl nearly non-stop today – sun up and now it seems beyond sun down.
A day to remember the dead, followed near by a day to remember and honor the living and the dead of a certain vocation – and in between a nation in self-proclaimed turmoil or celebration, depending on to whom you speak.
Tirelessly beating, each of us, our own drum – an off-beat cacophony creating a familiar song, a dance we are still learning to step; a march we cling to in order to complete a journey we have no words to hope for
– a lifetime of effort – a lifetime of struggle –
The drum beats quicken, heart beats – joy buried so deep we forget to breathe in and out of it – an inspiration necessary to life – An inhalation we feel impossible –
and the sun will rise in the morning- Grace in the morning dew, a clearness in the foggy gray light – a restless season – an acedia strewn story, longing to be untold – longing instead to wait and watch and gather close to the Grace in the morning dew.