healing

RCE_4168

I appreciate a good fist fight between two folks, both right, both lacking stamina and both willing to say they might have been wrong.

***

I remember my hands smelled like my father’s aftershave after steering the old Scout.

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The day ain’t never done before plenty of hard work. That’s never changed. 

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To see it now, broken down. The nails in the stems of the trees. The ripped billows, sheets stolen for our hammocks. The pails, dry but ready just in case of a fire. 

***

Far and away. The lake and mountains. The flood and riverbanks. 

It’s hard to imagine what we imagine now.

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