Analect 2.568x

3 September. Sun pushing up over the hills at dawn, pool figures in blue-green, watery elixir.

Last night --the Maude Fife Room, early evening, poems, anticipation. Each new reader a unique voice--offerings of worlds--plaintive, instructional, insistent. The sky right after--dark Wheeler trees against cobalt blue, a jumble of tender clouds--up, down, sideways--scattered across the heavens. Cell phone shot records the instant--a read on the universe, at that moment, at that point in time and space. Always so. Walking back to Wurster, the grass route up faculty glade--a hill, basically, covered by a field--and then at the top, through the archway, a new full moon in the east, rising, rising...

Cecil--Dayton--his mother and his father...