The Blithe Traveller

It matters not a jot to me where I am really. I go with me everywhere, so does He, and my world consists of us for the most part.

I will not go without warmth or beauty, but where are they not really? Does not each town have a smiling child? Is my gnarled honeysuckle any less than the feathered palm or cascading willow?

Don't mistake my indifference for apathy. You would have to know how the lady blackbird intoxicates me with her charm to know I compliment the showy parrot when I call his grandeur equal.

Air is air - perfumed, pungent, heavy or arresting in its clarity.

Sun is sun - sullen and soft in a self-absorbed whisper or shouting out abrasive shafts.

Water is water - saline swells, glassy tracts or dancing eddies.

I don’t mean I don't care; I care as the gambler for chips, or the cat for sleep and grooming. I mean only that it doesn't matter.

Sumangali Morhall
December 2004