Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter
Monday, December 05, 2005
Alms For A Bandit
The world outside is a snowglobe well past dusk with the dust collecting lightly on everything below, privacy fences, patios, tables and benches... The hood of that red Mini-Cooper from under which a solitary shape ventures in search of table scraps from a rusty barrel fifty feet away. So here's to the unmistakeable masked one, chilled to the bone and stealth-logged through intent stillness of a late night landscape of exhausted iron giants at rest.