Concord, Massachusetts
Walden Pond
Even the birds are quiet in this quiet place; they sing below their breath, in a whisper, as if showing respect for the beauty of quiet. The wind rustles through the woods, across the water making the trees sigh and yawn with the motion—that is all, the rest is silence. The wind is cold but the trees flirt, taunting the warm air to come—blushing crimson in buds ready to bloom.
Outside Air 
I am not sure what has attracted me to read some of your writings – the name “Outside Air” by itself caught my attention. I guess it is exciting to look over the shoulder of somebody in the process of being and becoming and who is working at being more.
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‘…showing respect for the beauty of quiet.’ Mwah! — me doing that thing fingers from lips to air like every Italian chef I’ve never met but always see on tv.
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Beautifully written….makes me want to go sit on the edge of the water and just enjoy the quiet.
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