Kindness.

Sun nearing its zenith on this imperfect “Independence Day.” Shot from the creek bed (flotsam from the creek’s winter height still hanging from the branches). A poem for our times:

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

You must wake up with sorrow.

You must speak to it till your voice

catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth.

(from “Kindness” by Naomi Shihab Nye)