I woke up with the giant redwoods with their ancient columns and patterns long warn and filed away by the elements. Walking among their vaulted halls and cathedrals with endless skylights.

I feel at home in the fairytales of these great beanstalks. I wonder where they’d take me if I were to climb further. I’ve missed these magical and sweet things.

The city sells me pretty things, sexy things, shallow things, loud things, always new and always so used things but rarely does it send me sweet things, warm smiles, open people. everything is coveted and locked up in the city and most of the treasures aren’t worth the locka that keep them. Indeed it is better to live open, full, with warm smiles and a sweet charm than locked, worn, hidden, hurt and outwardly cold or empty. It’s hard to picture God in the city, hard to hear him.

In all the glorious opportinity to engorge ourselves on city sins, I think men are driven out to pray forgiveness and find joy again. I knew joy before I moved to the city, brought her with me and she knew better than to stay.

Now I’m at the feet of God “Come on in. We have much to share.” We welcome eachother, I the prodigal son and he, the warmth and grace ever proud and forgiving voice in my head. Even if it is just myself to self, there is something to the grace and majesty of forgiveness.

I’m back out here with Dog and net, lost in my mind. He and I will catch butterflies and chase joy. He’ll point her out, resting briefly on some branch and I’ll be careful not to stir dust from her dress nor snatch magic from her wings, just buy enough time for an intriging introduction.

Brushing off the dust of so many forgotten things, rediscovered running around covered in dirt. Strange and wonderful.