A Woman at the Spring

   

To grow bored with the sky is to tire of living, our last untrammeled zone, a deep thinker wrote 150 years ago, and it was so then. But still the sky is as close as we'll know to that immaculate plane we hold holy, a remnant, perhaps, of origin, or of destination, who's to say? So, yes, another photo of the evening sky —expand enough to count the birds on the wire, and if you stay still long enough, you'll hear their wings when they arise together out of the copse  at your back where the old farmhouse used to stand, and you'll feel the presence of the generations on the land, and maybe catch a glimpse of a woman walking from the spring, spilling life on warm stones. Stay still in silence long enough under the shifting sky, and anything can happen.