Not like Redbuds
rooted laterally
towards moisture,
or Blue Oaks
chasing a granite crack
of snowmelt,
we can leave, anytime:
sell the cows
with the place,
go anywhere, retire—
feet and glasses up
to toast new skies.
But who would want to
at this late date,
we’re not that kind.
I’m with you John. That’s how it is. Happy Thanksgiving. Pat
Sent from my iPad
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Thanks, Pat. Despite it all, there is so much to be grateful for in this way of life.
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You have chosen, by far, the better part . . . Blessings in your Thanksgiving . . .
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Thank you, Peter. Enjoy your gratefulness.
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Somehow the tree symbolizes my feelings today.
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I hope it makes you feel better.
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You would never be as happy anywhere else.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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Thank you, Angeline, we will. And yes, we know these things instinctively, but looking down the trail, one never knows how we’ll deal with circumstance. Until then, we’ll keep on.
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If you have your own bit of God’s acreage you stay until you can’t stay anymore.
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We’ll do our best.
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