Logbook

4:30 am.:
Earth rise. Mind sail lies flat against the poles under a blue black sky.

As in the mountains when you return from the summit
feeling as if God has put his own parka around you.

Or when a man has endured the loss of a child
and sits in a hollow room until the paint on the walls feels his sorrow.

5:00 am:
Calm air, few scattered crows.

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