Today the breeze felt as though it had come from some far off island--a place where the tide is low and fast birds flitter across forming pools, searching out minnow trapped by a moon's pull. It traveled one's bare, summer arms with the knowledge of many lands and many people. It was an exquisite breeze of fulfilling simplicity; a cool blessing found at the apex of every turn, the culmination of every climb, and alas with the greatest presence--at the folding together of rocks--"The Lookout." Whether picking your way through boulders in Ringwood, plotting coordinates in Iraq, or piecing together the map of your existence elsewhere in the world--that breeze, I hope it found you.
Far-off breezes keep us company, as we touch green at the top of The Lookout.
A whistle we encountered, draped over the branches of a low-lying shrub, enjoying that same cool blessing and swaying silently, for once, in its presence.
Eazy-E, bombin' it down from the top of The Lookout.
Far-off breezes keep us company, as we touch green at the top of The Lookout.
A whistle we encountered, draped over the branches of a low-lying shrub, enjoying that same cool blessing and swaying silently, for once, in its presence.
Eazy-E, bombin' it down from the top of The Lookout.
No comments:
Post a Comment