9.18.2026 – a shaft of sunlight

a shaft of sunlight
moment in and out of time
you are the music

For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest

From The Dry Salvages V. in Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot (Harcourt, Brace: New York, 1943).

This is my view on the way to work, kind of.

When I take a photo, I am looking straight ahead, keeping my eye on the road.

I hold my phone, balanced in my right hand with a finger on the shutter, and I click away without looking, hoping to catch something good and hoping another car in the other direction isn’t in the way.

I don’t see what I could have seen until I get to work and look at the pictures on my phone.

Today, I was pleased to see this magic image where I lined up on the nose with the rising sun.

I was going south east at 60 miles an hour.

The earth was revolving to the east at 1000 miles an hour.

The sun rises at this latitude at about 900 miles an hour.

I had left for work after passing up one last cup of coffee.

And it all lined up at the same place on the Cross Island Parkway bridge on Hilton Head Island on September 18, 2026 at 722 a.m.

For most of us, there is only the unattended moment.

The moment in and out of time.

The distraction fit.

Lost in a shaft of sunlight.

Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all.

But you are the music while the music lasts.

These are only hints and guesses.

Hints followed by guesses; and the rest.

The rest that I didn’t know until I got to work and looked at my phone.

Would the music have lasted, been different, had I put the phone down and stole at glimpse at the sun as I crossed the bridge?

Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all.

These are only hints and guesses