Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seventeen
No turkey. No squawking jays.
I turn the corner and see my friend the fox. I stop and take its picture. We stare at each other for a few minutes. I keep on walking. It turns its head in my direction, scampers down the rocks, and begins to follow me.
“It means you lose by not trying to play full out, by not trying to do the impossible—whatever that is for you.” - The Art of Impossible
What is different? What has changed?
More “yeses.”
Or, instead, you could be grateful.
Still so very loud in here.
I look down and realize it says, “Felicia.” That’s a first.
She wants a jar of pickles. I need dishwasher detergent. I’m just glad she doesn’t ask to drive the truck.
And miles to go before sleep.