January 11th, 2011

The Burning Barrel

I used to sit under the Forsythia bush -- the one by the back basement door of my parent's house. I imagined that some day we would trade the yellow flowers and then wander down by the burning barrel where we would count each ant crawling on mom's peonies and so then we could reckon it was an entire world. What sometimes seems irrational, often isn't at all and recognizing weakness can also be one of our greatest strengths.