It is a brilliant morning at The Farm. The waning moon- waning but still bright enough to cast shadows in the darkness- rules in the western sky as the new bright sun floods the fields with life to the east. It was bright enough to cause sleep to be light and filled with illumination and dreams light and disjointed. There is hope for Spring now in just weeks, not months, but the temperature at dawn’s early light only edged into double digits.

The news this morning? The Queen who has presided over the End of the British Empire, a span that exceeds all the dawns we have seen in this world is touched by the plague that has transformed the world much faster. Will she survive? And will her passing, when it comes, finally sunder us generationally from the chaos of aftermath of the global war in which she came to the throne?

Word comes that the Russians are painting great “Z” symbols on the aft ends of their mighty T-72 tanks. A decoration for “exercises?” Or as an old friend observes, when two forces engage in ground combat using the same vehicles, provided by a departed empire, it is useful to be able to distinguish “friend” from “foe.” As I peck at the keys, or mash the smooth screen with eager fingers, the strange Olympics in Beijing are having their closing events.

Does closure on that global event present the opportunity for the opening of another?

Our part of this spinning world is illuminated by sun and moon as the stars fade in azure skies broken only by the contrails of hurtling jets high above. We will see what occurs as we spin toward darkness, broken only later by the rising of the moon obscured by clouds.