Spring is in full throttle, driving every living thing mad with joy and longing.
The birds are crazy with song.
The sky is so blue it hurts to look at it.
For hundreds of thousands of years there were other human species on this planet. They painted their bodies and buried their dead and surrounded the gravesites with flowers. They hunted and made tools and made love and made babies. They were eaten by giant wolves and crushed underfoot by Mastadons and their young were carried off by great eagles and they died before age forty and they are gone now every one of them.
Like smoke they have vanished into the air.
I love my small life and treasure it all the more for its fragility and hopeless outcome.
I don’t say it often enough, but I am deeply grateful that you come here to read and look around.
I hope this day brings you pleasure, comfort, peace, and something good for dinner.