Jacque's Toast

As I sit here this evening quietly thinking about my return to the familiar, I read and find writing on when I sat quietly thinking about the unfamiliar.    Written on June 6, 2015 I just was sitting up on the roof gazing around at the beautiful sights and taking in the incredible variation of different sounds. Not a moment of quiet, but that did not mean that it felt unpeaceful. Starting with my head, tilted back on the hinges of my neck, staring at the night mixing in with the twilight, sponging the wisps of Tennessee shaped clouds a soft lavender, and the warmness of the temperature hugging me comfortably, allowing me a simple t shirt and shorts. The stars get to twinkling on the lower rim of the great sky, and brings my gaze down to the top of the most massive slab of rock imaginable, a rock that is shaped like a whales back- long, and huge and gently arched. With trees and greenery lining the top and coming down the sides a little, the rock juts up from the face...

  flowing water, a billion grains of sand, strongly perched rocks and loosely hanging flora Trindade

"I tramp the perpetual journey My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange, But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road." -Walt Whitman