Ordinary Fan

The fan beats back and forth, a lighthouse
beacon made of wind. It spots you
for a breath of time, then turns away,
leaving you in the dark of calm,

the warm tide settling in place.
Then the water stirs again, troubled
by the angel within, the homeward angel
fitful, restless, a whirling halo of bright sleep.


Summer Night, by Paul Willis


Fall is coming, but it's not quite time to put away the bedside fan. After all, as Ishmael tells us in Moby Dick:


"...truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if...the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm."


Words to live by.