Today I am sitting cross-legged on a hillside, a bee buzzing me. Directly below is a busy port. To the left a bridge with beautifully curved ribs spans the Willamette River. A train rolls out of the yard; others remain parked, patiently waiting to be coupled. What's going on here? Humans producing, consuming, polluting...
Trees try to repress their anger, but everything green is beginning to scream.
Yet I am happy in the moment. The noise of commerce is comforting, the chugging trains reassuring, the bridge bears its burden without complaint.
Dark clouds-- thunder,
lightning, a few
raindrops, the sky