Monday, April 6, 2020
When we passed this front-yard garden on our walk this morning,
to my surprise the word ‘alliance’ came to mind. Somehow, there seemed to be an alliance – a perfect partnership – among the elements in the garden – among the hard slabs of stone, the soft ground cover, the almost-floating daffodils, and even the old metal mailbox. As different as they all were, they seemed like a society of friends to me, like a brother-and-sisterhood of springtime. Strange, how solid stones can meld together with velvety daffodils and cushiony ground cover to form a fellowship of sorts.
I sensed a similar, free-and-easy relationship between this great gray rock and the smooth, mosslike plants resting on it,
and there was an alliance, it seemed, among these sturdily built cars and pavement, the graceful trees and shrubs, the smooth sky with its sheet of clouds, and, in the distance, Mystic Harbor seemingly at rest.
So strange, I thought, that something like companionship can exist among such dissimilar things. As we continued our walk, I felt luckier than ever to be alive in a universe where sharing is at the center of things, where alliance, in its secret way, holds all the actual power.
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