under yellow moons
(to those of you who filled up this summer... so much love)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Some days I felt and urgent responsibility to each change of light outside the sunporch windows. Who would remember any of it, any of this our time, and the wind thrashing in the buckeye limbs outside? Somebody had to do it, somebody had to hang onto the days with teeth and fists, or the whole show had been in vain. That it was impossible never entered my reckoning, For work, for a task, I had never heard that word. -Annie Dillard
1 comment:
underneath blue moons
Post a Comment