Our Shire New Year ignited with a late afternoon sundog and a contorting rainbow which resolved into an convergence of opposing arcs. Simmering in a stew of pinks eluding definitive names, the sun became lost in a skyfield of purest, colorless light––like a radiance “behind the sun.” Disarmed before the visionary scene, we reclined in winter’s meadowgrass and in silence.
Imagination’s dominion selects fine tealeaves from the harvest of this occasion. We’ll share a cup when you come; the taste will say it all.
SunDog Howl
