This is how sun comes to the hollow:
The day arrives before the sun comes in,
the bowl of hills holding the morning,
shadowless and muted,
and then the tops of trees go golden,
branches like spiderwebs catching the sun,
and golden travels down the trunks of oak and locust,
and then a star emerges
over the southeastern rim of the bowl,
pulling shadows out of everything,
spilling gold over the fields.
1. One more snow day. I really needed these snow days right now. I’d’ve managed, of course, but now I feel less like I’m free-falling into the semester. Two days of rest and contemplation after doing the grades is perfect for me.
2. One more snow day, which is to say: sleeping in. I slept until after 7.
3. One more snow day, which is to say: hanging out with the fellas.
4. Anticipating the return to rhythm.
5. Memory of green.
May we walk in Beauty!