As I approach the caboose of my long qua-train, I'm quoting Hart Crane, but sounding somewhat like Ezra...

I realize that the 2nd half of today's entry grows a bit vague & cosmic, & this is a weakness... it does not exactly cohere.

The "tire swing" at the end refers to a photo of my parents' backyard, early in the morning, in Hopkins, Minnesota, where my father had suspended, from a tall oak tree, that particular tire swing. I took the photo when I was about 10 yrs old, with a Brownie automatic. The shadows were very long, & the swing dangled very far, & the light was, well, limpid.