Dawn in Heaven

utu e ta. So there it is, eh, the earliest known word for dawn in any language. Sumerian, a base of civilization, culture and language. 

My coffee has gone off cold. OK if it’s black. There’s never sugar, but now and then the first cup has milk. Milked hot coffee gone cold is yucky, even fouls the mouth. 

vier Uhr zehn: Zeitung. 

Back. 76F by the back porch thermometer, got to be near 100% humidity. Yep: 94%. Brisking down Calhoun to WBeachDr and round to the front walk is pleasant predawn with St. Andrews Bay before me. Why is the green light so clear, the red harder to see? Because the green light is an idea, but the red light is nameless. Walking back up Calhoun the only light is a passing car on 9th Street, going where this hour, and why?

Is Heaven a Day like this life, or a State like a Norman Rockwell painting? On a Day in Heaven, I will go for a drive in one of the cars in the garage out back. In the State of Heaven all my girls are three years old and snuggled up in my lap. We are reading a story. My son Joe is just arriving for his visit. He is never driving away at the end of his visit, that’s the Other Place. Here’s the story.

    

fünf Uhr drei. utu e ta.

W