Turning Circles

I know that yesterday I said I would paint my future in broad strokes. Today, I am noticing details. While I will never tire of seeing the colors and shadows of sunrise, sometimes I see the sunlit curlicue seed heads of blue grama (Bouteloua gracilis) as it dances in the wind. I hear the whistle of the dried yucca stem so clearly that I turn in the twilight darkness to see who is there. I again find comfort in seeing the regulars, the silver Ford and the runner in black. I get just a little uneasy when I hear the new person whistling for his missing dog near the top. But even with the interrupted meditation, I welcome the familiar strength that has me dancing down the mountain retracing the path up with just a little shift. It is the same pathfrom a different perspective and a little variation added in for spice. When I meet someone new, I want to know details. They may not assemble into a whole but then I fill in by looking at them from a new angle.

Holding hands
Turning in circles
A different dance each day