"Creeps In This Petty Pace"

September Tuesday. California burns. The news is monotonously bad. Why would you decorate these diasters with words? They deserve no poetic halo. It is just extinction of our perceived asylum in space. EARTH - Erda - Ishtar - Our Lady - Mother of Us All ** * In southern Minnesota a giant tree-root, half above, half belowground, unwinds down steep hills, over streams, through campsites, treasure paths, broken trails, and clearings with pools of white light shining on the leaf mold. Look! There is the moist earth. You're standing there, not on pavement, not on concrete. Real organic living earth. There you stand. Look up. A sky completely empty, only color, no clouds, not even bird flight. Is it a Zen Moment? or perhaps a commonplace September event? Breezes stir rivulets of relief. The air has never been so pure. It must have launched with holy abandon.