I've had the echo's of Matsuo Basho's word in my mind these last days since I've come back to MT.

"This autumn-
why am I growing old?
bird disappearing among clouds."

It's an odd winter; today it reached near 60 degrees; giving credence to what is rightly called global warming, or human-caused global warming.

I suppose, in some respects, that I'm back, in terms of what we do here, writing, blogging, whatever we call it. After these last months I feel a bit different about it, less need to write,  more urge to what might be called communicating a viewpoint.

The Basho's birds fly into clouds and are gone, they could be figments of our imaginations, shadows at the edge of certainty, borders of seeing.

Like the bird of the Japanese poet, I'm here, or I'm not, depends. We'll see.

I did the beginning of a story in  Rivers....it's here
 http://costalriverstories.blogspot.com/

Thanks for all your messages and comments these last weeks and months.