11.18.15 Lousy ,and badly met

It was too late, a few years ago, and there were no sounds, except the wind whipping about, racing down the length of the river.

 I went out upon the path to untangle some of it. To peel from my garments the reliquary. An ordinary day, turned lousy and badly met. 

But the air was fresh and nourishing as any good meal. 

The trees stood tall alongside the far end of the first field,with aprons of dropped leaves, their branches long and elegant ,as they waved in the breeze. 

And all along the path, a bit wet and spongy from a recent rain, was the way of the outdoors. 

The deliverance of being with that which is older and larger and wiser, and true. 

Others walked by, alone , or with a friend; families with laughing and arguments and stiff strollers. 

River devotees with the characteristic look. 

Of one part awe, three parts relishing, and two parts all-there-is.