out here all i think of is wind.

i saw wicker man again and liked it better than ever. the nature religion embodied in it, the independent spirit resistant of capricious and domineering, infantilizing authority. though the money schmucks hacked it to pieces and threw out the negative in a mass celluloid grave it survives much like nature religions do, ha.

scout, my scout, my hunter of essence.

we went back to the meadow and looked with nostalgia at the island enisled by fences. they didn't make new islands or lagoons, just recontoured the edges and tore out all those nasty pernicious foreigner species and flooded the place. no one will tell when the island will be released from bondage. we met some birder friends though and copp was so happy.

i feel the wave crush and the spume that rises into clouds i feel the earth bound with eyes wandering up. i read somewhere last night; one should always be open to regenerative influences.

maybe the soul even of humans returns to nature.

wave crush rain bow