Connection erases age, weakens constraints, strengthens the bond of brotherhood.
I have crossed many valleys. I have loved many brothers.
Treetops creak and bang the way the screen door did in my own lost boyhood.
A wind has risen. Dying leaves pray for us all as they descend, knowing how to honor their own wisdom.
A final stretch of weather will come, driving me into the finger-shaped lake, but today is bitter enough to invite stillness. Today is northern tundra, Canadian coastline.
I puff and snort the way my grandfather once did, hiding an empty wine bottle among indifferent stones.
C.M. Rivers 