Hug the earth close as the moon will try to pull you from it. It wants you to float like an unreal number in endless digits never coming to rest. It comes to rest in pools left behind by tides. The stillness of the water is the template. The intricacy of the pattern is the movement. I’ve never not been here before. What does time say to the other to shake it loose from timelessness? Leaves cover the stones November is the season’s bones. Leaves cover the ground the book of nature unbound the trees are writers out of ideas the forest a library after an earthquake. So hug the earth close whisper the affirmations -- It is always Close, always Here It is in All and is All -- and write them on the palms you busy your days with for the page lies when it lies down. So stand it up and mix it up with the leaves you walk through.