Night came, and the moon with it

The last few days have brought rain at night and spectacular clouds

on the Daily Walk. This is from yesterday's Walk.

Today had surprises, and after all, no room for the Walk.

Today's mail brought me a new book by my favorite, Mary Ruefle. 

I am sorry to have to report that the soft creamy, art-paper cover 

as on her other books is no more. We have instead a nice 

orangey-red with white sort-of-handwriting that one cannot read 

running parallel to the spine of the book. But Mary is still inside, 

and I am looking forward to a few nourishing reads.

A CERTAIN SWIRL

The classroom was dark, all the desks were empty,

and the sentence on the board was frightened to

find itself alone. The sentence wanted someone to

read it, the sentence thought it was a fine sentence, a

noble, thorough sentence, perhaps a sentence of

some importance, made of chalk dust, yes, but a sen-

tance that contained within itself a certain swirl not

unlike the nebulous heart of the unknown universe,

but if no one read it, how could it be sure? Perhaps it

was a dull sentence and that was why everyone had

left the room and turned out the lights. Night came, 

and the moon with it. The sentence sat on the board

and shone. It was beautiful to look at, but no one

read it.

Mary Ruefle      (born 1952)

THE MOST OF IT. Wave Books, 2008, page 55.

One thing I noticed about typing this is that the linebreaks

are very useful, giving a little shot of importance to words

at the ends or especially at the beginnings of lines. 

One task for us might be to try typing paragraphs of

our writing, or journal writing, to a certain point, and 
then breaking the line. One could look to similar sized lines,
as here, or . . .?  jhh