Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
As I soaked in my hot tub at sunrise this morning, with a fruit-basket of colors pouring across the sky and into the folds of the mountains, a huge bubble formed on the surface of the water when I shifted my arm. The bubble, nudged by a pine-and-snow-smelling breeze, floated past my face, and I saw my reflection on the curved dome. My featureless silhouette arched over the bubble with the scudding clouds and then dropped away just before the bubble burst. Above me, the clouds pushed on, perfect in their silence.