Frank wrote that the blackbirds were condensing, and chattering, and comfortable. It was a time of year. But why the effort and why a blog?
Without a good explanation but condensing my heart, I spent the night searching for the link, a pundit incising that blogs will always stack and stack but our stories will redeem us, the most precious thing, the gift no one can bring but us, that view that afternoon when lifting over the ridge, when curved around a building on that busy sidewalk, when nuzzled along that shoulder that keeps her smile, when all this breath collects what we wish and what we give away. Asking why we post our blogs, it must be for justice and knowing its grip, and it must be for beauty.