Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Far-reaching harmony.

March 19, 2018


There is music to be heard when we are still, a rhythm apparent enough even for those of us too tone-deaf to carry our own tune in a bucket. The steady drip-dripping of the season changing is a call to arms, a drumbeat to awaken us from long, sometimes troubled, sometimes sweet, slumber. 


Don't ignore the impulse, this time, to move. The season is too short to muddy its clarity with our own tuneless thinking. 

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This Quiet Earth