At some point walking down the same trail that’s so familiar but still capable of surprise, I realize I can count life in decades now, neatly dividing events into personal eras. The path descends to a tree where I turn for a loop along the creek that tomorrow will find the river.
a certain slant of flight
in the bleak December sky—
crows heading home
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James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
Nicely done!
Thank you, Dave. Your post gave me the answer to a part of this I had been trying to pin down.