I'm often stopped short by the way in which moments of transcendence can impinge upon otherwise mundane lives, as was the case with me shortly after midnight this morning. Taking my dog for a walk -- only two blocks from my doorstep -- I came upon a small herd of four white-tailed deer, crossing the street on their way down the hill toward the Delaware River. To see them, tentatively waiting outside of the glow of the streetlight before crossing the street, one by one, like a group of serious schoolchildren on an outing, was as heart-stopping as it was surreal.
Where shall I find myself
Tonight, waking from a hangover --
The riverbank lined with weeping willows,
The moon sinking, the dawn rising on a breeze?
Year after year, I will be far,
Far away from you.
All the beautiful scenes are unfolding,
But to no avail:
Oh, to whom can I speak
Of this ever enchanting landscape?