It is Monday, returned to movement, a sallying-forth, clip-clop. Who will we meet upon the road and where will the momentum of the all of us together take us? I don't know. What fun it is, not knowing. I am lit with the jangle of harness and tack. I am rejoiced by the small wings of small things. The light that catches. Here we go now. Here we go.
Telling: Streams & Logs