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Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.


Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Frost on the Pumpkin

This morning I was running a little late to work so I was able to see the sun rise. In the twilight of the pre-dawn I was driving by some fallow fields iced in hoar frost. The full seed heads of grasses sparkled in the blue light, dull earth colors encased in gem ice, trees sporting new crystalline coats reflecting headlights. It was beautiful. In my head I heard the harp section from Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies." Happy Thanksgiving.

Also, it's my brother's B-day (happy happy), and my wedding Anniversary (Happy Happy).

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