Thursday, September 17, 2015


"Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountains split.

I wake in a god. I wake in arms holding my quilt, holding me as best they can inside my quilt."

Annie Dillard "Holy the Firm"

It's as if finding a fields are a treasure; golden, speckled with purples, yellows and green.  But golden!  With their dense coverings.  They surprise you easily.  We assume we can trample, but there are hidden waters, animal homes and reeds higher than us.  We walk through as visitors.  We greet the day in golden fields. Time moves slowly; birds fly swiftly.  

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