Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The day expires.  The gnomes recede. Speedy falling stars pluck wishes from your bosom. The lawn is burnt to a crisp, and the moon cools the blades of grass.  The cicadas cease to vibrate.  What lurks in the gazebo? Are you safe behind wooden doors?  Counting rosary beads and reading scriptures.  You decipher codes there within the thin parchment.  Something like a miracle keeps your heart beating steadily through the night. And you wake to fresh fruit and pancakes on the breakfast table.  Amen.

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