Light

Bare boned trees back lit by the rising sun watering my eyes as I journey east along 117 appear almost mystical. There are new birdsongs in the air. The long row of 100 year old silver maple trees lining the south edge of Verril Farm have all pushed their buds into several generations, opening their chlorophyl-filled cells slowly, but deliberately. Nothing green there yet, but we know it's almost ready. There is something peaceful about sunlight at 6:00 a.m., something majestic about the way towering white pines glow in its light and soften further the softness of the early morning sky. Three hawks in 24 hours, one right over the top of my house. There is, it seems, much I should be paying attention to these days. The melting opening landscape, this greening Earth, the slow return of motion, living motion, perceptible.

Two years ago today, George Bush made his final threat of war. His destiny in infamy cast by this foolish and careless imperialism. George Bush, who recovered his reputation from the wallows of alcohol abuse and cocaine use to convince a nation of un-critical Christians that his way was God's way, has no business in that office any longer. His illegal war must stop. He must be brought to justice for launching it. I hear rumors of Pinochet coming to justice, at last. Even mumbles that Kissinger's time will come. The slow, almost imperceptible movement of life convinces me that each of these criminals will pay in time. There is little to justify the intentional perpetuation of war and fear and hate.