I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
Monday, October 17, 2016
Scenes from a Commute
Well, from the commute home on Sunday. This is East Branch Reservoir at it's lowest. Normally except where there are trees, this is filled with water and people are fishing. I'm not sure this captures the full riot of color.
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