Sunday, September 22, 2013

Good Morning Jack...

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 22 September

Good Morning Jack…

Leaves fall.  Caterpillars eat.  Moon rises.  People deliberate. 

I’d like to stand on some high desert where the air grows cold and the wind picks up just as the sun is setting.  I would hear the whole world rotate.  It would sound like faces growing old.


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