Friday, October 27, 2017

Cotton Picked

The cotton's all been picked. Football season is past the midpoint. All Saints Eve is coming up. No sounds coming from our attic. The ghost lady who haunts our neighborhood has yet to appear. The voices I always hear this time of year in the rustling of the leaves are muted. I have yet to meet the Buddha on the road. We are still here. All in all, a pretty good deal.

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