Out in the yard, the dog always lays down and watches the rear sliding door in case the Boy comes out. Summer's over, but he still watches. Will he still be watching when the Boy goes away to college?
The goats smile at me when I come over to see them. They call me Apple Man, because I always throw a few apples over the fence.
Autumn evening: my shadow stretches for an entire block. My silhouette slides all the way down the street, pausing when it gets to the parking lot of the Community Center. Reflectors flare bright red on cars owned by recovering alcoholics. My shadow seems to be studying this light. In October, the setting sun transmits a thousand messages in a single photon.
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