So, is it my goal to find something of value through the crux and craw of each brutal yet endearing day? With each moment, I try to absorb something of lasting value, of spirit, of soul, an arresting image benign of its own importance and suggested merely for what it is.
These three doves sleeping together on a tree branch through the tranquility of a December snow squal represents that harmonious intent I, and maybe most of us, strive for. Less than a mile away, there are traffic jams, noise, a ceaseless rush toward commerce and confusion, yet these three are blessedly oblivious, resting in their own comfort, soft and serene in their corner of the wooded world.
"It would be well, perhaps, if we were to spend more of our days and nights without any obstruction between us and the celestial bodies, if the poet did not speak so much from under a roof, or the saint dwell there so long. Birds do not sing in caves, nor do doves cherish their innocence in dovecots." Thoreau---WALDEN
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