Fingernail moon's light shines down on dragonflies. Dragonflies rarely light, it seems, preferring to dart and flit. The sun is one inch above the horizon, at least from here. It's not the heat, however, that oppresses. It's the water in the air. It's the humility. Shadows prefer the early day and late day because it's when they're at their largest. Noon shadows impress no one. Shadows reach for tomorrow in the morning and for yesterday in the evening. Only at noon, when they are least present, are they content with today. Meanwhile the wind is pointless, wandering around, stopping to stare into the distance. I shouldn't criticize, however. I am like this wind. No gale I. Variable. Meteorologists always talk about pressure more than temperature when they're among their peers. Pressure is the key. As for me, I've never seen pressure. I don't discuss it with farmers standing outside the general store. I wouldn't know how.
Somewhere, so far down in the ocean that the light of day is a faint glow far above, a giant squid sings a beautiful song. No one knows that they can do this, but they can. It's their big secret.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
