I am glad that there still exists unknown things—that there are still mysteries yet to know. Though not so that we should give in and let them be, but continue to strive for what they wish to teach. One came and landed at the lake today. A little white cloud, with a kind of black splotch somewhere—it was pretty far off on the other side. Smaller than a corella, roughly the same as a seagull, but with strangely longer wings when it landed and then took off from its spot on the dry land by the water, before flying even further up the lake. Any other day I might have walked around and tried to follow it, but today was 34 degrees by 8:30, and I was sticking to the shade. Safe in not knowing maybe.

Though I wonder still what it could have been. At first I thought an albino pidgeon or dove maybe. But its wings seemed too long. Beyond that I would really just be guessing. A ground-landing bird by the lake’s edge, white with black splotch somewhere, solitary, heading north maybe, not scattering any other birds. This is all I know.

It was a bird that I have seen, but I could only be slightly more specific than that. A mystery in the landscape of the lake. I have seen what I have seen, but maybe also I’ve seen the limits to my concepts. The shoreline of ideas. I’ve seen the thing in front of me, but can’t see the concept or idea of it, or link them in my thinking. Or at least not yet.