Further Ataraxia

Five in the morning, and the dragons are lifting above the predawn Joburg skyline as we glide off the highway.

Low lying clouds - wispy, thin and fairly widely spread across the sky, but they lack depth. Dark grey against lighter grey, the dragons promise mist early and torrential rain later.

Good, because I've had enough of this drizzle-drizzle-drizzle that's been standing in for our normal climate in summer. Give me searing heat, high blue skies with towering cumulo-nimbus clouds later in the afternoon, and a glorious, crashing, pouring, gusting Highveld storm in the evening.

But these dragons are such stuff as dreams are made of - you cannot wrap your arms around them, as last evening my partner held a panting, glazed and frightened Bull Terrier in his arms to calm him, before we acted as an animal ambulance and got the
dog to our vet - where he's still, as far as I know, awaiting his human.

And I was amazed once again. To see perfect strangers putting their hearts and talents together on a tired Wednesday evening - when all you wanted to do was go home and collapse - to round up and rescue a scared animal on the road. And I, assuring the gore-and-blood-spattered animal that He Was God,noticed burning within me a tiny flame of hope for the human species, after all.

Thank you, Universe. Or as Friend Abraxas says:

"This universe is highly intelligent in every respect."