I am Desperado this week at the Spring Equinox -- tossed in the waves, limboed in the clouds, lost in the reeds. All I got clearly done was to kneel facing the sun at the end of the day, which was setting to signal a night of the same length. The see-saw hovered for a moment, and then shifted: my friend Marya Ursin writes "it is the tipping point," and we begin a long lean toward the side of light.
And I'm again wearing red as that man in black goes by.
