days have rhythms of rise and (shine or not) of sun and light and lunch and the slow tumble of the afternoon to evening slouching more deeply into the couch, then staggering upstairs to bed Weeks have a rhythm imposed by expectation? Experience? on Sunday we do nothing, as aggressively as possible and then the work week drags its way across our desks with increasing delight (or relief) to Friday when we wonder where the week went? again? months do not have rhythms, except to think Oh, February already? and then what? July? in the next breath but I can find no internal rhythm to a September, or March, or any other month - although sometimes a great yellow moon comes shouting through the window into the living room in the dusk years have a rhythm of daylight and darkness, of warmth and cold of green and gold and purple gray and back around to the clear green haze of spring and mud underfoot, and new things starting burgeoning, pressing forth The rest are all imposed? invented? by humans, the decades and centuries the generations, eras and epochs still earth keeps track day by day year on year a vast clock, spinning through time and space
Which is to say, I have been doing things, useful things even, and simply not writing about it.
Happy solstice – the days are getting longer in the Northern Hemisphere. Thank you for keeping the sunlight for us, in the Southern Hemisphere.