NOVEMBER ASKS

Photo by S. Auberle

NOVEMBER ASKS

twelve degrees this morning...no sunshine on the red guitar or the reeds in the basket…but Ashokan Farewell drifts through the room in its quiet way…there is fresh coffee with homemade blueberry jam on good thick bread…a candle burns beside the window…looking out I can see once again…through the neighbor's newly undone trees…the bay's white-collared purple gown...there are poems to write…music to learn…loving food to prepare and eat with friends…life is good…yet…Thomas Merton seems right for this November morning…what on earth am I doing here?  I have answered it a million times…I belong here…and this is no answer…in the end there is no answer…