620

Rowdy and I climbed this pine in '77, climbed more than 15 stories, and from that high place ruled the world.

619

Amid the pampas grass, new roads appear, shining black. A mystery, they beckon me to walk them, even run.

618

They say "morning sunshine" like it's a good thing.

617

The past wasn't what I thought it was. Most likely, the present isn't either. What do I do with that?

616

Soft puppy nibbles fingers, toes, then licks same softly, softly.

615

How much truth is unspeakable because we never invented the words?

614

There is nothing sweeter than loved ones softly sleeping, curled warm, quiet, and at peace.

613

Two great kiskadees perch over clear resaca shallow, waiting for their Thanksgiving feast.

612

Letters to ghosts written, never sent.

611

Are thoughts, themselves, thoughtless?

610

Dark winds blow, wet grass withers, chill air and chill moods that no coffee can allay.

609

Blink. Go back to sleep. Stay in bed on dark, dark days. Keep warm, keep cozy.

608

Possum ambles along with beady eyes, dark and patchy hair, naked tail, sniffing out palm fruit and other savories.

607

Base of spine – numb, pleasure, pain – asphyxiation – desperation to breath! to breath! – no air in this tiny jar, nor even room to thrash.

606

Bebop jazz retro hipsters smooth, smooth, smooth into steamy South Texas night, wipe wetted brows outside Stripes, drink Mountain Dew.