Aug 122011
The cocked rock which now is stiffened was once, believe me, supple mud-- jeweled dragonflies sipped at it ferns lifted intricate fans in the paleozoic breeze just as, all elbows once, I had played in mud puddles with my prized avocado-colored ball. How then came the rock to crack, condense and become this crumb of death held slightingly aloft, the breeze still biffing fresh, (slightingly, slightingly) in the agile boy's sling- shot--dead-aimed at a grey unstirring squirrel creasing his teeth on a green acorn?
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