“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” ~ Rumi
Take what you can, says the gull
swooping low over the waterfront;
every bird for himself, baby.
Up in the abandoned heron’s nest,
it’s finders, keepers where the squirrels
are foraging. My friend asks how much
ocean can fill the heart’s thimble.
What does it matter, when there is no
ledger capable of taking it into account?
In response to Via Negativa: Banking.