Summary
I have September stories, decades of them, all with the same setting: a blue and yellow day brushed with a diffused sunlight. The slant of light crosses green leaves that are turning lighter overnight -- bottle green to lime, hunter green to blond.
Always in this recurring scene, I am stirred by something in the air that both offers and threatens pending change, reminding me that I am at some pinnacle, bathed here in this rich, buttery light, in this thinner, clearer, fading light. In some seasons I have run up against this air exhilarated; other times I've stumbled empty- handed.See the full content of this document
Extract
Life's Tale Told Across Seasons
This September Wednesday I look across hills where the grass slopes and loops lightly around gravestones. The sky is...
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