passionate curiosity and unfolding grace
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Today's subject line comes from the corner of Bench #51 at Radnor Lake:
I impulsively treated myself to a solo hike Saturday afternoon, after my fourth meeting within five days. To my surprise, the park wasn't too crowded -- I had one of the "difficult" trails pretty much to myself, and lakeside there seemed to be almost as many deer and dragonflies as people. And I'd remembered to shove a pen and sheet of steno paper into a pocket, so now and then I parked myself on a bench and scribbled down some of the stuff crowding my mind, including the ways we try to remember each other:
I was hunting through my files earlier today for an old draft, and came across Margaret Menamin's Death Watch. It seems I e-mailed a copy to myself five years ago, thinking I'd want to read it again someday. And so I do:
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| From Nashville |
I impulsively treated myself to a solo hike Saturday afternoon, after my fourth meeting within five days. To my surprise, the park wasn't too crowded -- I had one of the "difficult" trails pretty much to myself, and lakeside there seemed to be almost as many deer and dragonflies as people. And I'd remembered to shove a pen and sheet of steno paper into a pocket, so now and then I parked myself on a bench and scribbled down some of the stuff crowding my mind, including the ways we try to remember each other:
 |
| From Nashville |
I was hunting through my files earlier today for an old draft, and came across Margaret Menamin's Death Watch. It seems I e-mailed a copy to myself five years ago, thinking I'd want to read it again someday. And so I do:
I am afraid -- afraid of ending things,
of losing the absurd delight of waking
to unscarred sounds of summer in the making...
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