The sun shines on Erin's birthday. Numbers change and change again but grand sun overlays the vista. Trees become full of where we are, and time produces shadows. We live in the moments between other moments while all that spins with the wind. That wind makes a formal breath and a tone to open, inward, outward, always. In the vast singing that we call Universe, a bird compares with anything. Just now, house sparrows produce a pattern of embarkation, into the natural wind of being still. Call them rain clouds, porticos, ambassadors from translation. They survive the time they do not survive. As do we all, as gentle plants and animals. Clocks plant everywhere, with their entity of numbers. No advice can be given, just a charged moment and the native embrace. We all long to hear the songs that can be made. The sun shines because the sun shines because the sun can shine, in its loving explosion. We meet to meet again, in the rapid moments that time gives us. Erin, it's your birthday, time and time again. We will love in all that time.