I often think of the great power it takes to tilt our earth to fall and winter’s rest. The unreserved kindness is what strikes me as odd as if the forest might someday decide to turn itself into brilliant colors. I can never seem to be as grateful as these random kindnesses demand. It is like the dawn, or warmth or love in my heart, whole-hearted love that causes a longing for fulfillment. My life often seems a tryout for a grand play of euphoric gratefulness, as if someday I might be called for the lead. Oh, the sets would be something else and the opening act eternal.
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| Dawn in Milos this summer. |
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