Monday, March 25, 2019


While I have long understood that no season makes me happier than the height of Autumn, it is only this week, while walking around in a melting city, with our River in dangerous flood, that I suddenly understood that my second favorite season is early Spring. Winter's powerful grip breaks seemingly all at once and it's fearsome body that once seemed indestructible, crumples and bleeds. But it bleeds water.

There is water everywhere! It was all just water all along! What astonishing trick was this? 

I love water. I look to the clouds and I cry delightedly "Who are you people?"

And this water runs. Streams form at random anywhere and everywhere. Sidewalks can be creeks. Springs form at the side of the road, on the lawns, under your feet as you baffle. You can launch a paper boat to the sea from your doorway. Hope conquers the city. Something awakes.

What is it? What awakes!

Everyone knows that the dead cannot cross moving water.

It must then, be life.


  1. I have many favorite manifesto posts.
    The comedic. The political. But none so beautiful as when you wax poetic.


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