Ciclo DLXX

The canal this morning held the sky without holding it — a blue that lay upon the surface but was not in the water, and when a single leaf fell from the plane-tree it opened a ring outward as if the water had drawn one long slow breath. I thought: this is how the soul prepares, not by cutting through but by receiving the fall and answering in circles. The hand was still enough to watch it; the mind would not be still. Così va. By the time the ring reached the wall it was no longer a ring, only a disturbance smaller than thought, and the blue returned as if it had never been questioned.