… become noon, become evening.

I’ve spent the day lost in the slow rhythm of correcting or more accurately grading college work. Truthfully: it’s the part of this job I least enjoy. But it has its compensations.

Like finding a piece that is beautifully crafted – unbound by the moment, less about context than content; with a depth that surprises both philosophically and stylistically.

Only one in more than two hundred, perhaps.  A product of situation rather than its prisoner.  But a  gift. Like a snowy, January morning with a dog to walk.