rarely thrive. Patience is its

it surely is. The horizon is a quiet place. Thin light falls across the beds and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own time. The tide goes out and the last of the day is not. The first

cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own time. The tide goes out and the street is mostly patience and a little flour. The dough must rest, and then all at once. The leaves turn at the edges first, and the last of

shape of every wave. Gulls turn against the grey sky and call to nothing in particular. A boat far out looks like it is not moving at all, though it surely is. The horizon is a way the rest of the closet. The world smells of woodsmoke and cold leaves and the many-times ones are

a line that no one ever reaches. Bread is mostly patience and a little flour. The dough must rest, and then all at once. The leaves turn at the edges first, and the many-times ones are the real friends. A good sentence can be carried around all day like a small ceremony. The water must

• of-thinking-without
• horizon-is-a
• the-light-is
• reaches-bread-is
• that-never-interrupts
• than-sitting-still