Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Yesterday Once More

It's been years since I last heard the living voice that was once the most beautiful in the world. And yet, I can remember it over the radio. I feel the lower frequencies tug at the distant heart of my youth, summoning the distant heartache of bereavement, the sense of injustice that one so beautiful had left the world so soon.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? A woodchuck could chuck wood as much as a woodchuck could chuck wood.

It seems that everywhere I go, carpentry provides reasons for living. And Christmas, in so many ways, rubs that fact in.

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