In case of glass, force out emergency

It’s hard to keep up. Not with life, because that has a habit of rolling on relentlessly.

There go the trees- well, not going anywhere- just waving their branches gently, nature’s fingers plucking a whistling breeze out of an invisible harp.

There gasps the sea, exhaling against the rasping sands, the gulls swooping in an endless loop in and out of the breakers.

There stand the mountains, saurian mounds not doing much or shifting, but forming a large grey wardrobe into which the orange orb slips when the shadow-time comes.

The small creatures rustle and fret and twitch and obsess- never discouraged from pursuing that which they need to replenish the blood in their veins. If you could see them all at once, you’d gasp at their seething masses.

Where do you turn?

To the seasons, to hope, to crises and resolution. To calm and to fear, anxiety and peace. To feasting and famine, to life and to loss.

The winds fill the flags, buffet sails and scatter ashes.