One of the things I’ve relearned lately is that I am just one of God’s happy wanderers. The current goes where it goes.
from Field Journal. [The Tao of Mick]
Running fast and flooding
that clean squeaky air / the morning after a thunderstorm / running fast and flooding streets built through former backwaters / July sweet July / it sings its song / I wait for the next note
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a song can die in a cornfield
a song can die in a corn field / we mistake fireworks for stars / a man’s heart can hold too much thunder / and yet a new song hums itself
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