Never and Always

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

—T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”


Precious memories, unseen angels

Sent from somewhere to my soul

How they linger, ever near me,

As the sacred past unfolds

I turn down the soothing voice of “Gentleman Jim” Reeves.  He looks at me from the CD case, a face thought of as handsome in his day, though Jim seems too mature and, maybe, just a bit innocent, even naive, for our jaded time.

I saw the black police SUV too late as we entered town.  Now we sit on the roadside, just past the cemetery, the SUV’s lights flashing, the wind kicking up hard, rocking the car a bit on a blustery December morning. ...

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