holy hush

Morning.  The sky growing brighter.  I’ve slept eight hours.  I don’t know what to make of the world after eight hours of sleep.  I feel as if I have awoken in a different world.  Yet nothing extraordinary admits itself into my thoughts.  A haze shrouds my future, a future different than the past.

It’s Sunday morning though.  I often feel a little of Wallace Stevens’s holy hush on summer Sunday mornings.

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Published in: on June 27, 2009 at 8:40 am  Leave a Comment  

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