Beginning

Sunday has come around again, the quiet morning, but it seems too soon. A calm, warm air lies on the land. I have paced the walk while the stars wheeled. Where its black paint has chipped, exposing steel, the dark yard lamp reflects the gibbous moon's glow. The sky has barely begun to show blue, and only the white and yellow roses have emerged from darkness; Those of deeper color need a stronger light to bring them forth. Night conceals the pale things last, and its end reveals them first. White fence holds one patch of darkness from another, until growing light places it in its landscape, restoring its purpose. The world of fragments is reassembled slowly, and in a while there is a street and there are houses, and then the first jay shatters the quiet to announce that wholeness is returned.

( Sunday Verse )

Love Is Wacky Hats!

I really, really want one of these Republican convention hats.

After you see the picture, take my poll:

[Poll #346038]