Sunday, October 24, 2021

I live by habit, walking the same ways through each day.

There is no path from one moment to the next. Each direction leads to each. The day is cascading possibility.

I think I march upon the trail, but I am in flight, a dragonfly, fearsome and free and small and nimble.

Lord, buoy me with warm wind underwing. Each choice is new freedom. Let me choose and choose again.

(Letter #2,479)