Back into my forest after many days away. Felt the same deep sadness in the woods as on my last visit.
As I rested against a hemlock, a spiderweb on a nearby tree wafted slowly back and forth in the breeze, in and out of the afternoon sunlight. Shining, then invisible, then shining again.
The web looked at once so whispy and so self-assured against the massive trunk of the tree: the ephemeral anchored to the eternal.
A lark constellation hangs in the night sky, beating its wings as it lifts off the ground. Everything I love, this whole earth, is under the lark.
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