In Fog

Sometimes the dawn is foggy; sometimes life is foggy. In one of those organic flashes of synchronicity with which we are blessed -- or at least amused -- from time to time, this morning both the weather and my sense my own state in the world matched. How cool is that? It's like living in a poem, isn't it? Everything fits -- even in the midst of a little bit of a crisis.

It was like an hour-long little jewel. It was grace...gift...which was not wasted on me, and for which I was and am grateful.

(Sorry for being so cryptic; but it's a long story that's not very interesting. What I've shared is the best of it.)

A recent motif?