William Muckinen

He said, "I sometimes wonder if the wind can feel itself, or what it brushes up against, as it cuts through the meadow. Its harshest gusts colliding with flowers. At least Helen Keller could poke herself in the ribs, or touch a dead bird. She had that goin' for her. What if we had to take on all the pain and grief we gave others over the years, intended or not, in a single hour? Could you survive it? Heck, I know I couldn't. I'm a trooper of the gospels but, no matter, I've had to breathe in my own burps quite a few times. It's God's way of saying "You're barely even a dying spark of the great fire that is I." Or something like that. But then after a while he'll pat my back and tell me not to worry all that much about things."

blue sky---

fresh snow on the graves

of those I love