Sometimes it’s the little things. Often, actually. Like this slender sliver of a crescent moon tipped sideways, a celestial smile. Like this volute capital — atop one of two ionic columns flanking Rosslyn’s front entrance — glowing warmly from the pendant light hanging above the stone landing. Like that improbable glow silhouetting the trees despite darkening sky above and shadowy shoreline below…
And when several of these little things happen concurrently, it’s as if the world, the universe, life itself begin to rhyme. As if we can hear that subtle singing underneath. As if, listening deeply, allowing ourselves to become receptive, we can join the song. Perhaps humming along at first. Maybe even begin to sing.
Crescent Moon Haiku
At dusk, crescent moon and mustachioed column grin, share a chuckle.