Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Provider, Squanderer
A child awake, bubbling over her body, and another deeply sleeping, tumbling black over black. A mother on a treadmill life pocked with time. A father considering the woodpile, settling for a cup of blackest earth. He will chew through it, pass some of it on to the others, and they will cheer for the gift, the man who gave it, but know him a little bit better.
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