I am reminded of Emily Dickinson (for some reason it her in the fall and Thoreau in the spring):

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

I stand dazed in the aftermath of lightning, by all who have written this week. I don’t really think I can take in all the parts. The storm has blown through, the smell of ozone is a tang high in the nose, dangerous and clean. I am a hound catching the scent of what the zen folk call the Missing Ox. All I can do is to take up the trail and ‘give mouth’ to what follows.