I heard in response, "So that you may see." So, although I have not used this blog regularly for many years now, I turn to it again as a repository of my exploration of seeing.
Bitter cold as I walked
Past the paddock toward my early morning
The Painted Pony, restless in the light of the full moon,
Snorted boldly at me and ran
Like a child in a summer rain.
Surprised, I greeted him
As he stood, defiant,
The cold making a fog of his breath.
The night air catching us both
In a moment of mystery.
How did we get here?