Friday morning. Cars rush by in front of the Temple. Trucks too. Out here on the porch, I can guess the size of the vehicle from the volume and texture of the sound. At this time of day, they mostly head east on Pleasant Street – toward downtown. Like bees streaming out of the hive toward a freshly found patch of flowers, each one seems full of purpose.
As I listen, it’s a mystery to me – that each passenger in each vehicle is following something of great importance. Their quick apprehension in my ears is just a glimpse of a particular and unimaginably complex unfolding of a human beingness.
Each life a whole universe – a singular big bang – an inexplicable manifestation of matter out of nothingness. And each only here briefly. Each one on a journey to twinkle out of existence.
Meanwhile the crab apple blossoms float effortlessly like so many tiny white negligees hung out to dry.
The ground under the greening azalea is littered with purple petals.
The tip of my inspirational nose is pleasantly cool in the fresh morning air.