Wednesday, August 20, 2008

AUGUST 21, 2002

Cool and damp this morning. A haziness above, but it's not - I think - permanent. Everything will let go when it has to. I am up and moving. Myself, letting go when I have to. I say that, and sneeze.

A dampness on Washington Street, not enough to suggest it has rained, only that the sky dragged her wet dress along the pavement.

A flupp to the flag at the cemetery. Waste water from the canning factory is being sprayed on the field to the east of Highway E just north out of town. There are still ten acres of sea gulls in the field that last year was alfalfa. The field of corn where the hawk tree stood - that field is entirely harvested now, only rubble and stubble and lines left to the imagination. Nothing stands there.

A crow flies towards the morning greyness, towards its old age, into the beginning of the end.

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