Tuesday, April 2, 2025, 19*
Unforgiving in her frozen unevenness, the ground will never gain the grace, never have the freedom of water although she may soften. None of us could walk on the pond to reach the other side to explore what’s over there even if we could make our way to the nearest shore. Perhaps dreaming of that nearest shore, of what's on the other side, the three have returned to sleep. Soleil works at pushing the thermometer above 19, there’s no frost this morning for her to eat.
It’s not like an hourglass with grains of sand getting through the constricted space to land in vastness with others to wait until upended again. Can we say time is resting when sand does not make its way through a constricted space? When nothing has been upended? Since the move, it’s been hard to find, to keep track of my energy my want to – not measured by an hourglass, performing more like a lava lamp, not going from chamber to chamber but rising and settling in unique shapes. I suppose my energy, my want to is resting.
“I will instruct you and teach you in
the way you should go;
I will counsel you
with my loving eye on you.”
Psalm 32:8
Art: LJ Austin
