Wedged

Have you ever been caught between a rock and a hard place?



Everything I see around me is a symbol of something else.



There is an inherent beauty to the rhythm of life. We come, we grow, we reproduce, we fall, we pass away. Everything feeds into the future.



We leave behind whatever we can, and since we can't take anything with us, that's pretty much everything we are, or have been.



Here, in the waning summer days, in the wake of a lunar eclipse that caused everybody in my house to talk in their sleep and have weird dreams, we are anticipating a change of seasons.



It's fall, even if the calendar doesn't agree, because the kids start school next week.



This is a season of excitement, new beginnings and opportunities. Change is in the air.



Almost unnoticed, the fruits of spring and summer die and fall to earth, their bodies adding a sweet, fermented odor to the hot night air. They are going where their ancestors went, and where we all are meant to go -- into the soil beneath the feet of new life, new sprouts, fresh beauty, and the sexual drives that carry all of us into the future.

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