I open Francis Mayes book, A Year in the World, to these words by W. S. Merwin:
..... we are words on a journey
not the inscriptions of settled people.
These words are interesting to me, because I am caught now, balancing on the movement from journeys within to journeys without. My world is expanding, and yet, I still love to pause and feel the universes within, even as I know they are with me, wherever I go.
The rain has just begun. What a gift, manna from above. I feel caught in nectar, like a bee wallowing in a comb of honey. Moisture beads. Rosaries ripen in me.
