We're in Maine for the weekend, visiting with family ... it's lovely and chilly, sometimes uncomfortably so.
Growth rings on a clamshell make me think ...
the accretion of habit and love and grudge and duty and customs,
we don't, maybe can't, see them after a while;
they're just the shell that protects, or at least encircles, family.
I went for a run this morning, at six ...
my son followed me, literally, nearly two hours later.
We're both running these days, each for his own reasons ...
me not to die before I'm done (with what? with everything), him to 'get in shape' (whatever that means).
Mine is the footprint on the right, I may be digging in more, pushing harder ...
I only hope the paths I leave him in this world are straight and true and lead to worthwhile places.
Water was trapped in the heights when the tide swept out overnight.
In the cold light of morning it can be seen pulsing/bleeding out of the beach I'm running across.
Time is the water,
the grains of sand are you and me and jobs and TV and dinner and new shoes ....
We're moved and shaped and arranged by forces we can't really control or understand ...
the patterns are only visible from a distance, a perspective, we cannot obtain.
Some sand is washed out to sea, some makes the beach, some is dry, some wet ....
I generally/genuinely don't see my place in the patterns.
I resent being a grain of sand in a bigger picture.
I'm arrogant enough to think I may be the irritant making a pearl in an oyster ...
arrogant enough, even, to think that might be a good thing.
I imagine that I can feel understanding lurking out there ... just over the horizon.
No comments:
Post a Comment