Winter, evening—same thing, that late phase of life. It’s a good time and I’m in it. I walk outdoors often, listening outward and inward. Sometimes a poem comes.
LIFE, LIBERTY, HAPPINESS
I’d stopped by the evening tree
(or else was stopped below it)
when there arose in me
this deep-felt certainty:
It’s one thing to be free,
but a better thing to know it.