Jack wrote this in February, 2006:
That old full hunter moon changed back to the usual, merely spectacular color this night. Looks as though it’s planning to wait until after dawn to drop behind the mesa.
Coyotes are taking advantage, getting in some last-minute chasing of some unlucky rabbit before they trot off to their dens for a bit of shuteye.
It’s always amazing to me how three, maybe four coyotes can sound like fifty when they’re on their involved in a smash and grab operation. Same when they’re just yapping and howling their gratitude affirmations to the Universe for allowing them to be coyotes.
Moon’s bright enough to fool someone’s hen house down in the village. A rooster’s stretching his wings down there, announcing he made it through the night without an owl, skunk, civet cat, dog, coyote, not even some microorganism sneaked in and put his lights out while he was asleep.
The cats are prowling, anxious to get outdoors, but I dasn’t let them out until dawn on a night such as this one. Far too much potential for that old owl hooting in the pecan tree out back dropping down and having them for breakfast, as he’s done with neighbor cats of late.
Then there’s me.
Thank you, Universe, for allowing me to be me this lifetime. Thank you for every pain, every stumble, every fall and stubbed toe I’ve given myself without intending to during this 62 times around the sun.
Thanks, Universe, for everything that’s happened to me in this life.
Thanks for what’s happening now, this cold dawn, in all those threads and tentacles threading out there through this reality that are building to cause me pain and joy.
Thank you, Universe, for everything that’s going to happen between now and when I exit this vehicle.
Okay blogsters. Back to writing a blog entry.