Tender and Mild

2 Days Ago,

I lay around in the morning; the RV is all quiet. I sit by the window drinking coffee, reading the Ancient Text, today leaving Malichai and joining the glad tidings of Christ’s ancestry in Matthew. Listening to good clarinet music in a forest of quiet color, a breeze rustling my world awake. We sit at the border of Canada; we are lazy; we have no reason to get going: “All is calm, all is bright, round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild.”