Vignette
Every morning as I come into work I am greeted with the piteous cries of an apparently famished feline named Ghosty (named so because his abundant fur is as gray as a ghostly vapor tickling the glassy surface of the lake before the dew has ceased settling on the emerald blades of grass that borders its shores) who begs me to scoop a cup of food and pour it into her dish so that she might nourish her feeble frame and assuage her ravenous hunger. These mendicantive meows are repeated thrice a…
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The first school buses of autumn send shivers through me. It’s true. Those yellow-carriers-of-children to some endless dolor of desks and chalky dust evoke in me inner prickles of impending loss. Once the diesel-belching yellow dragons start sniffing out the summer-bleached children I know that all that’s halcyon and warm will soon be shorn and shrunk. Long and leisurely swims in the lake will end and the curtains of night will draw ever tighter around the waning windows of winter light. Everything, everything will be foreshortened. The constraints of ever…
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