On New Continents Made of Columnar Pin Oaks in Oceans of Blue Sky
In which The Gay Recluse looks up and sees maps.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget how arbitrary time is.
Like yesterday when we were rushing for the subway (and missed it).
And then stepped into the elevator at work with five other people and of course everyone pressed the button for a different floor.
We were late for our meeting and tried to explain.
What is time to a tree, or the sky?
We are often prone to this kind of continental drift.
Filed under: Dissonance, Dream, Faith, Landscape, Longing, Pessimism, Photography, The Spring Garden | 4 Comments
Tags: Columnar Pin Oaks, Continental Drift, Leaves, Maps, Sky