The movement of seed in furrowed earth, And a blackbird whistling sweet and clear From a green-sprayed bough.

~ Excerpt from In April by James Hearst

Early rise. Some of the night unslept. So, I swim early, 6:30 a.m. The morning turns hectic after that and Charlie has to wait a long time to go out. I drive the Special One to day care and end up needing to meet my client by phone in a parking lot overlooking a pond. The parking lot is ugly. There is litter on the trail that runs in front of my car. I talk, and listen deeply, to my client while also letting the visuals of the scene in front of me enter my psyche. I am present for both. A white swan keeps diving her head down in the rippling pond and sending her bum straight up. A lone cardinal lands on a tall stalk of an old cattail and sings. The swan swims to the edge of the pond and digs up, from the leafy bottom of the pond, beakfulls of organic matter, then spits them out. Most delightfully, two squirrels are getting it on, in front of my eyes, on a branch by their nest. I have never seen squirrels in this intimate engagement before. All this is going on, and so much more in my ears, in my thoughts. I go home to walk Charlie and Suzi and have a chance to eat a quick lunch with Frank. It’s so nice having him in town. I take a break from my desk today and give my brain a good rest.