the water, like a glass between-
the other world, and me
here i am, in this imprisonment-
the rivers, bars of my cage
i swim-
but never can i break the surface.
what deed have i done-
to deserve such a punishment?
yet, i rest in contentment-
knowing that, imprisoned may i be-
still beauty hangs nearby!
the drooping blossoms of the trees-
leave trailing petals upon the lake.
winter's coming on fast —
better chop enough wood.
pluck the last fruits of the harvest —
then say goodnight to the garden,
resting under a blanket of leaves and love.
In the vet's office.
My bunny, sedated.
They are coming soon with the second shot.
She had a good life. I hope she finds peace.
I'm going to miss her so much.
I love you, Whisper. I'm sorry.
Do you think people 100 years ago, in rural Vermont, looked up at the sky, at the milky way, the moon and all the stars? Do you think they marveled at them, and taught their children the constellations?
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