Downhill I ran yesterday through the wild Indian plum and the ivy climbing cedars, my steps hushed in the duff, breath control, heartbeat solid and rushing. The wind was my own through the still forest, and I could see the black ribbon of river through the bare trees. The bones and tendons, the bend and torque of motion, spring release. The wild cherry blossoms adazzle in the glimmers of sunlight through dark grey clouds. I try to consider it the other way, to free my steps I imagine I am perpetually airborne and simply need to touch down for traction. Lightness.



Tonight we share sushi with friends, a birthday celebration, a raw fish orgy. Then if too much sake has not been consumed, we'll join in knitting night, and the problems of the world will be addressed, resolved, and mended, stitched together with neat, even strokes.