Handiwork of inescapable insect and flower, sexual procreation, the fecund spring awaits, a return from the Sierra Nevada, pilgrimage of another year. My father says cut out a meal, leave 100 lbs to the dust in night vision. These places have been mine, the beginning of another essence. I believe, wait for middle age to creep away. Seeing my father, I am bright and florescent, looking at weight to stop growth, letting my life ease over into the beginning of age. Always a belief in recovery. Dear friend, father, Hotchkiss, Dickson, the teachers who taught me to study. Begun one day, finished the next.



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