A 12 hour Wednesday. It was nothing insane, but a long slog any way you look at it.
Now, I'm kicking back with my feet up and a glass of Mt. Hope honey mead to warm my chilly soul. The night air is cool and so are the blues I have playing while I relax. Howlin' Wolf keeps me company in my loneliness, his guitar picking away at the shadows.
The days often start in quiet contemplation, even as the coffee begins to wind up the physical body. Mind wandering while I drive, occasionally paying attention to the world outside the truck windows. Like this mornings view above, beautiful scenes are there for the seeing if only the spirit is open to them. The evenings sometimes end the same... in quiet thought and pondering on life. Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a tear.
Right now, the only beauty in sight is the framed photo by my side. All else seems pale and quiet; Kind of like my mood this evening. The mead is sweet and strong, and it needs to be to fracture the silence. Flavor exploding with each sip, drawing me away from myself.
Just a very quiet evening....
2 comments:
Howlin' Wolf, a picture of a beautiful woman and mead. That's perhaps how a Celtic minstrel or poet would mark time at the evening fire today. They would look into the fire until dreams carried them away. Their wise ones would look for insight from dreams--perhaps they were visions of events yet to come.
Astute comment Solerled, and has a ring of truth to it.
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