January 22, 2009 Thoughts in the night, like singing in the shower, often sound better than they do in other locales. Having strung pearls of thought in the last hours before dawn I believed them to be memorable enough that upon second awakening I could shine them up. I was all but ready to set the clasp. But like clouds on the wind, they had all blown away. My mind is left, if not clear, empty. One inking could perhaps lead me to the trail. But as early as it still is, I see I can't even stick to one metaphor to describe my lost cloudy pearls.