Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Pneumonia

When he was four, my son gave me a little cardboard box, festooned with ribbons.
I shook it. 

Nothing rattled.
Nothing inside? I asked.
He took a peek through a slit.
Dark inside, he said.
You gave me a box of darkness?
When we opened it, we found nothing of the sort. 

On the contrary: 
Glorious honey-toned daylight, festooned with ribbons still.

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