There were half a dozen police hanging around on the platforms at the train station this morning. At first I thought they were selling raffle tickets. But no - it was all about not crossing the tracks when the alarm was sounding. ($250 fine - hmmm...)
But then when the 6:13 pulled in this evening, where had they all gone? Where were they when scads of us hurried off to our cars, even before the train had closed its doors and pulled away. Ding ding ding ding ding...
Another case of situation ethics, I suppose.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Looking into the sun
Our science teachers told us not to do it. But a hundred of us gather, again, and wait, quietly talking, laughing, watching. God is the timekeeper, as always, and the moments pass steadily, slowly.
A little barefoot girl, perhaps four years old, wanders back and forth to the water's edge, across fist-sized stones worn smooth by wind and water. 50 years from now her feet will remember the feel of smooth rocks and wood chips under the blazing red sky reflected in the quiet water.
Serene, intense, brief...
As the sky slowly darkens, the breeze falls off. The flag hangs limp as a gull flies away.
A small pair of pink crocs left under the bench where her parents sit. How much will she remember? How deeply will this sink into her inner being? 50 years later, and then what?
A little barefoot girl, perhaps four years old, wanders back and forth to the water's edge, across fist-sized stones worn smooth by wind and water. 50 years from now her feet will remember the feel of smooth rocks and wood chips under the blazing red sky reflected in the quiet water.
Serene, intense, brief...
As the sky slowly darkens, the breeze falls off. The flag hangs limp as a gull flies away.
A small pair of pink crocs left under the bench where her parents sit. How much will she remember? How deeply will this sink into her inner being? 50 years later, and then what?
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