Let us make a devotion to this darkness.
One faith matters now —
if only one could place it in humanity.
Are the birds all in hiding?
Are they coming for us soon?
You can’t will an angel into being,
so let the devil rake it in.
You cannot pray away your shadowed eye,
and you can’t call yourself a True Believer
if you’re not as willing as Job
to endure it.
juncos and song sparrows. bit of snowdust. brighter today. inside, i mean. this territory of resignation is difficult to navigate. continual silence begging to be broken. chickadee. kill them with kindness. can i not lose myself in it? little flock of goldfinches on the hill coming down to the pond. buffleheads on the pond. coopers hawk. mallard. another bufflehead, in flight. big flock of mallards in the riverbend, and canada geese.
It seems petty, and inconsistent, for a supposedly benevolent god to test a man so.
fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)