That lucky old man had nothing to do but stroll around heaven all day.
It was cold and windy with darkening gray skies. Hikers had long since headed for home. The Mountain Ravens had huddled away for the evening. Wind whispered and whistled through the trees. The Wind will often sing to my Soul with lyrics for which I have no words. Lights begin to glow and twinkle in the valley. There is the sound of a far off train whistle. Quiet creeps across the mountain yet sounds prevade. A dog barks in the valley.
This mountain is one of my favorite group homes.
Precious relative solitude on the mountain and I am reminded of a passage from Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching:
This is called the Form of the Formless,
and the Semblance of the Invisible,
this is called the Fleeting and Indeterminable.