Electric Fence

A friend writes in his morning lines, “Light, there is so much of it. Even the wind is full of color this morning.” I read a book on Miles who says, “Prejudice and curiosity are responsible for what I have done in music.” Last night on the golf course before dark: clear, windless. The day’s heat evaporated, leaving the night sky free and light. Clouds standing on treetops like a summer hat. We didn’t stay out long, just enough to stretch our legs. Today we drive down the Parkway to Graveyard Fields for a picnic by the falls. The river dropping down through the stones in thrown cupfuls. The trick is to be at peace with the world. Or at odds with it, bristling like the neighbor’s dog at the perimeter of its electric fence. Prejudice and curiosity. Wind full of color. Coming upon who you really are. Voyaging out in the day, returning home safe. Light throwing itself at the window like a sparrow.

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