Thursday

Still Countable



A cooling wind has blown through the valley this past couple of days, carrying the occasional, the still-yet-countable leaf. Mostly they are supple on the trees, the leaves, and fully deeply green.  The music of them in the evening- o lullabye lullaby.

Last night, this morning - these winds - these are the gifts. To be with them, a part of them as closely as possible, increasingly seems an excellent choice.  Many of my choices, especially those made in the tight confines of our human-made constructs, have been subjective: created by and accountable to circumstance at hand as much as any dogma, including as often as not those much loved by me or those simply imposed on me. Complicated, these processes.  I have often mistaken these complications as either being part of a living truth or containing one.

But the wind?  I've never mistaken it for anything other than what it is.

The one last night was especially sweet.