Who said that you, even as you move and change and relate from the side to things, are the center?  This new indigo cloth has been poured on.  Seen lightning and heard cicadas.  Sun has dried it.

It is its own thing, and it is a thing-yet-to-be.  Not unlike a child going off to college.

The spec of rust is like a beauty mark to me.

When a partial circle is visible, we easily fill in the missing part.

And, when a circle is filled with water, it often captures the sky.

Families are circles.  Time is a circle.

We are driving C. up to Montreal tomorrow, so I won’t be here for a few days (thankfully, our house sitter knows all about how to care for quirky, slightly over-sized Corgis).

Our circle is expanding.