Deciduous

I looked over and saw Rocky’s profile superimposed on an evergreen forest, somewhere around the state line of Indiana. I remember meditating on the contrast: The greenness of innocence had been stolen from him; his deciduous flesh would not survive the season, yet the tilt of his head and the curled up corner of his mouth spoke of a blissful resignation to that which could not be cheated: his death, darkening the western horizon.

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7 thoughts on “Deciduous

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