A voice comes to your soul saying,
Lift your foot. Cross over.
Move into emptiness
of question and answer and question.
—Rumi, The Glance
Halfway across the pedestrian bridge I halt my stride, midair. Re-aim my foot.
Hello, Woolly Bear Caterpillar.
Black and reddish-brown bristles stripe a body the size of my second toe.
I salute a fellow “eating machine.” Colder weather has amped up my appetite, too. I’m hoping to burn off a recent binge.
Now drama looms. (So much for aerobics.)
At my feet two ill-fitting planks gape, the crack one-third Woolly Bear’s length. A stream runs beneath us. [Read more…]