Love as Law

On the way to Vermont I remember the many church spires rising out of foothills like gleaming ice picks. On the way back, a nun recited the Rosary at noon on the local radio station. In my mind, I try not to return to that trip because I know, one of these times, I won't leave. I didn't want to leave in the first place.

October ends and there is no more hunting flowers. Instead, a different way of writing brings the life and death of seasons. Jim Harrison's fiction and McGrath's non-fiction – I think I'm set for a while, thanks. Stocking up for the winter in one way or another.

I was thinking about how crucifixion and resurrection happen every day. Are we aware of what dies or what rises in its place? The lover mentioned Love as a law and I can't get the phrase out of my head. It is the only rule that does not bend or break. And therefore, it is the only law.

In a heartbeat, we press in so close that we cannot be separated by the naked eye. Saving ourselves by pulling apart is one way to look at it. Saving others is another. This is what it feels like to fall for a few seconds and then black out; we don't know where, how or if we will come-to.

November enters in a great hush. I crack the window to listen for owls but so far, nothingness instead. I don't think the universe holds its breath but sometimes, it sure does sound like it.