February 12, 2016


When ships were tall, and decks were oak, a sailor might be called to get down on his knees and pray with a block of sandstone.  That Jack might have been praying to the mate, but I find myself praying to the great old tree.  Bit of Druid, I suppose.  I don't really think it's necessary to make this sculpture so right, but today's honesty has exposed tomorrow's task, and I would honor this sturdy stone.