Moments come when the wind is still and the light reflects gently, subtly, clearly. Everything pauses while we notice, for a fraction of a second, all that we are part of.
The noticing doesn’t last.
Walking, we see the rust on a chain-link fence or the fullness of berries preening in the city’s vulnerable woods. Our stride slows, our shoulders sink.
For a moment we breathe into some exotic mix of urban and natural worlds and we are content – no, grateful - to have been born into part of such a noble, flawed, and glorious adventure.
And we always knew, when we remembered, that nothing lasts. Even the knowing.