Nine O'Clock Missive, Sunday Night

Dear Reader,

This is just to say: I am still here.

I am reading your blogs, you who have blogs, but saying little.

I am jotting short phrases in my notebook, like: "furta sacra -- the theft of sacred things"

I am reading the smallest of poems: haiku by Basho, Buson and Issa.

I am pondering permanence and transience.

I am paddling a canoe full of kids across a wide river. We are wearing life preservers and mostly smiling.

The fire is banked. The embers promise to glow and burn again when they meet with the breath of time and space.

Thanks for reading and for waiting. In peace,

Molly