It crusted the car roofs in the shade, twinkled in the low orange-yellow sunlight as it slipped meltingly to gleaming.
I woke with a sense of lightness not just from the uncurtained windows. An internal buoyancy of self-belief.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!
Polonius was a buffoon and of course came to a perforated-lugged-guts end but the words endure.
The earth moves, the shadows lengthen and shorten, disappear; the frost forms and melts; the water evaporates and condenses, forms clouds which quell the shadows, seed the frost. All changes. All remains the same. All is. And all is not. That is all I know, and all I need to know.