Today, as I prune the branches of yesterday and move the earth from here to there and back again, I'll let the crazy-healing-sunshine do its job as I contemplate the meaning of the last 12 months, perhaps even the last 55 years:  I'll hold them in my hand, cradle them as though they were my children, then I'll pinch myself to make sure it isn't just a dream-- as the day breathes the lyrics of Bob Dylan across my shoulders: "It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe, it don't matter anyhow. It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe, if ya don't know by now; don't think twice, it's alright."

One day shrinks; the next one 
explodes in clouds of pollen,
frogs rasping in trees, so high up 
we don’t even hope to see them.