This morning as I sipped my coffee, a bank of fog came tumbling over the crest of Indian Mountain.  A light wind tattered the edge, and then the fog thickened again.  It was as if the clouds and the wind were playing, conversing.  Below, the swamp maples are dressed for fall.

Today I am interested in the edges of things.  The edge of my cup as the sun carves an arc of light onto its surface.  The warm edges of my body meeting the coolness of the air.  The way we experience one moment (sipping coffee) falling, edging into the next (taking out the trash).  The way summer is falling.

Just now, as you are sitting, what edges are you aware of?  Can you let that feeling become clearer?  And then can you soften that edge, so that your body and whatever you are touching dissolve into each other – like the fog and the wind in the picture?