Somewhere at the core of me it begins: the easy fable of the afternoon. This love is a sweet and easy love, an enduring love, a kind love. This day is a simple day, a hopeful day, a productive day. This heart is a generous heart, a remembering heart, a heart that puts away the imagined ills as easy as the dishes from the sink. This world is a loving world, a sheltering harbour, a shady tree. This night is a long, slow blink in the dark of all men’s souls; we breathe as one for all of the soulless dark nights and blind its long, slow blinking.
eleanor j jackson 