the white oaks

There isn’t much to say when the rain comes around.  The greenery has already filled up the trees, and yesterday when we walked down the trail to the beach, it looked like the jungle had moved into the woods.  I don’t like the jungle the way I don’t like the fog.

There’s a sobriety inside of me that never goes away.  It makes things like talking about my yoga classes and cleaning up my room seem insignificant.  Some things in life are important enough to do, but not important or insignificant enough to write down.

Who do you love, really love, today, friends?

(This is where I tip my hat and keep walking)

Good day.

 

 

 

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