Rumor


Dear Eugene,

The night gets longer.  Now in the morning I look out the kitchen window to see my backyard emerges out of a play of dark shadows.  Soon enough the curtains' movement shall slow down and with that the unveiling of familiar things made strange by rain and wind and critters, friends and foes, stuffs out there once made impressions in me coming back to add nuance and emphasis, correct misconception, tie up loose end, suggest new connection, revisit history, bury and build.

Isn't this how we emerge every morning from the death of night to a new day?  The change of season just makes the rumor unmistakable.

Yours, Alex

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