Ripe

 I can smell the blackberries, they are ripe. I can't see them but the sweet purple is all through the air by the creek, the smell of the beginning of the end of summer. I am happier than I have been in years. 

Not moment to moment... I've had many moments of great happiness in past few years. I'm talking about the sine wave of my...  Contentment? No. Calm? No. It's something deeper than that and I would call it Faith if that word didn't smack of fundamentalism in these strange days. Whatever it is, it is the same thing that ripens the blackberries  The unswerving knowing of one thing following another in a seasonal cycle that holds both logic and magic. That makes a whole. I have actually been building my life like that.