Edges (October Twilight)   Let others bicker over who made what — isn’t everybody making? Aren’t we made for making — building, devising? But more than that — looking for some kind of freedom for later, some kind of heaven? I look for it in this forest, at the edge between summer and winter, day and night. I look for it in tidepools, at the edge between the sea and the land, between strange and stranger. I look for it where the flats meet the mountains. The edges are the welfare of the world, the crucibles of change and chance, the portals between this and that — the pockets where the world creates itself.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont October 2019