The marrow of the bone: love, religion and art are things to do - some of the best things to do, maybe the only. They are not moral pursuits, in any generalized sense. Some kind of narrowing, channelling of their activity, is necessary. I guess to each her own morality of love, religion and art. There is so much humdrum - and a few peaks, here and there. A huge hawk flew low out of a tree in front of the house as I walked out this morning, and exited down the green lane toward the road. More hawks high in sky, wheeling, today; it’s teach-baby-hawks-to-fly-time. Milkweed all aburst, plus cow vetch and clover and tiger and day lilies and morning glory and daisies and common mullein and buttercups and yellow avens and black-eyed Susans and St. John's wort and Queen Anne's lace and chicory. Very quiet here, today. The day seems to be starting in slow motion, sun hesitating, delayed in casting over garden. No trucks on road. No planes. A beautiful still sunny day.