August 25, 2013
Today starts heavy. It’s bright outside and clearly still summer, but the lethargy of brokenness does not dissolve. In fact, it’s a bright soup that travels behind the eyes to block them. Whatever is out there, just beyond, may be sharp and beautiful, but it can’t get in.
August 31, 2013
The mist was rising like crazy when I drove home from the barn. It was early, and in the low field by the bridge, it was thick and swirling upwards quickly, whereas it had been dormant when I’d driven by not thirty minutes earlier. Yesterday was frustrating. Early this morning was frustrating, too. But the crazy mist dance lifted my spirits a little. Things rise. I have ideas.