Tuesday, September 16, 2008

SEPTEMBER 17, 2002

Morning light and blue sky. Morning song of autumn. A clear reflection on the pond. All the loveliness, all the longing!

It's not a heavy dew. The shadows are not dark. It is only a small breeze.

Why is it that the closer I get to retirement, the less I seem to have to say about this drive to work? Is my spirit telling me something my head has not yet considered?

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