Sunday Selections

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The moon on the frozen elm
was a lick of eternity that said, “You
will go soon enough. Linger with
me.” And so I did. I stood there
till the cold crept into my boots
and the moon spilled up my face.
The thin blue shadows on the
snow were so bright it seemed
a day had stayed on to tame the
darkness from getting darker.
Then a sacred space opened
that I can’t quite explain.

– Mark Nepo, “Moonglow”

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