One Blade of Grass

That piece of grass didnt get cut. It stands there, above the others. Whether it was the way the mower cut, or the way the grass grew, it stands there, above the others. Whether an ant pushed the blade of grass, so for that instant the others were cut down, it avoided that fate. It stands there, above the others.

How did it become March? (Other than two months going by and it is now March). I feel the blur sometimes fade into my actual face and then I wake up and things move slowly. Usually the ice in the coffee I drink, or the way the bonsai on my desk is always there, shouts at how consistent things can be. Opening the fridge and the familar scent of brocolli says hello.

I just returned from Sydney, and it was simply swell to see some good mates. I stayed with Stew, who is a treasure. And danced with Chem and Dale, two men who I truly cannot do without.Very blessed, not in the cliche way. Cliche is such a cliche word.

The next few months are bloody busy. But that just means that I will be happy.

Here is a photo from Sydney. With good buddy Dale. I did not drink, as I have not for almost 18 months. See you soon people.

Edwin Dale

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