It's been a long time since I've done my morning run through Morningside Park. It's a great run for winters, when the sun comes up a little later, rising over the east side of Manhattan. So the summer shadows this morning were very disorienting, nearly perpendicular to the last time I saw their slanted angle. Where is the sun, what time and planet were we on? The sun didn't even rise from the east, it seemed to emerge from the north.
I awoke from a dream of sleeping in a silver-dewed canopy of trees. Another world, beckoning me to get up, to start the day, to worry about the needed worries of the coming two weeks. There is much ahead. With or without me the tulips became primrose bushes, loyal gardeners pulled hoses and carts stacked with gallon water jugs to perpetuate the preferred growths. One season to another, one early hour to a later one, with or without me, until my eyes are open and making it real.
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