Postcard #8, Death or Life or Maybe We Missed It Entirely
"There once was a calf that watched the dawn die. There once was a coyote that the calf's life did source supply. Time passed here and by and now there is a bull that licked the calcium dry."
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Death or Life or Maybe We Missed It Entirely
A light fringe of frost settled like a cape across the northern hills. The morning light alit from her antipodal work and clothed the landscape with remembrance–a rapt, genetic admixture of community and time. Light descended to invite the day to rise.
Early winter mornings are sleepy fellows among the calendar’s tired days and they often need a heavy invitation to do anything at all. The wood next to the empty furnace sits coldly as embers from last night’s fire shift mildly from the morning air ruffling down the chimney, stirring the ashes for one last dance—a memory of warmth, of re-enflamed light.
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Memory in her stable wonders erupts the day and memory in her ludic day’s dance ushers the cumulative moments of our days to their beds each evening. Memory is held when memory holds. And if you listen hard enough in between her morning eruption and her bedtime, pink-inflamed harmonic you can hear the early winter’s tepid freeze impinge upon the earth, like fine untiring needles of water trickling across the coordinates, as memory and her rising light alit now fully upon her earthly work melts everything, every heart.
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