walking down dusty, dirt road road eating apple, rabbits scurrying in adjacent fields, a breeze blowing from the northwest, sun halfway up the sky, alone with thoughts and feelings, know only where I'm going, doesn't matter anyhow, I am free, that's what matters. no titles, no posiitions, wandering only toward my truths, a fox out of the woods says "good morning," seems a gentle soul, asks for no adulation, maybe a rabbit for his food, doesn't work perfecting bombs, not out to **** a billion people, just hungry for breakfast so can meander another day. sherry is not with me, at least not hand-in-hand, that was many years ago. but still resting in my heart, always will be, always so. deer silenly gather, jumping fences as though they're never there, sit down on edge of dusty road to eat rest of apple surrounded by my many friends.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS