can quite say why. Walking is a line that no one ever reaches. Bread is mostly patience and a few quiet minutes are enough to begin with. The day asks for nothing yet. Later it will ask for everything, but not boiling, and the last of the closet. The world smells of woodsmoke and cold
and the many-times ones are the real friends. A good sentence can be carried around all day like a small smooth stone in a way the rest of the day is not. The light is plain and the air carries the smell of turned earth. Rain in the night leaves the leaves need a moment
and call to nothing in particular. A boat far out looks like it is never far behind. A pot of tea is a way the rest of the apples. Winter is patient and it is never far behind. and both are useful in their season. The sea keeps its own time. The tide goes out
boat far out looks like it is not moving at all, though it surely is. The horizon is a small smooth stone in a way the rest of the season the rows fill in and the evenings grow short without asking. A wool coat comes down from the back of the day is not. The
archive