Life is made of small moments, indeterminably precious Jewels of great value whose value cannot be caught up in words, trussed up in the silken tongues of scholars…
For who can truly capture in words the moment the deer stops, neck curved, a graceful bow bent, to drink the sharp icy water of a passing stream…who can capture the moment of that head's rising. Water dripping from pale white beard as pale white flag is raised in alarm and off on four fleet feet does the racer fly. Dancing through the underbrush….
And who can burn into paper the way rain falls just so on a hot tin roof in the middle of summer during an unexpected rainstorm. Steam dancing from searing hot metal as drops explode into a million, million shimmering shards and the lulling beat of a thousand drops sings a lullaby in my ears
It tests my mettle to try.
Try to describe how joyful it is hen a rainbow breaks between to clouds a simple streak of flashing colors that touches the ground nowhere. And billows so