The generous sky spreads out a table of righteousness before me in the presence of my enemies and friends. The latter thankfully are far more numerous, I wager, and I hope to make friends of the former by the day's end. But for now, I stand in the brisk air of early morning in Spokane and accept that I am a mere whisp of the breeze stirring the leaves of mid-spring on its way to summer and autumn and on to winter, gliding over the Selkirks, up into Canada where my cup can't help but run over.
