Thursday, May 25, 2017

Let us carry the fish of the net that we weave out of our sight into new dreams.

The wet weather is temporarily suspended. Just yesterday the plaits of the fir trees in front of the writing room window were being tugged fiercely by the barbarian wind. Now there is a soft fluttering of the boughs and all is peace in the world.
The scattered sheets of the clouds are fluffy feathers. The sky-mind is blue and pensive as if meditating on the next thought.
I have just got up. I read a poem or two and then came here to praise the world in its freshly washed body. The praise over, I will take dad to have his blood work done (fasting blood sugar and other tests). Both mum and dad will then do some grocery shopping.
Then off to Rebecca. I got a call from her yesterday as she was expecting to be home. I went but the flood of water in the streets reminded me of when dad lost his Toyota on the deluged Whitemud Freeway and I stopped before I got on the freeway.
Things should be dry and safe today.
A thread of white goes through the needle of the sky. A bird flies overhead. A dusky light flares from the sun match. A singing begins inside. The world is beautiful. Let us carry the fish of the net that we weave out of our sight into new dreams.

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