The Value Of Your Work
African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.
Then starting home, he walked toward the trees, and under them, leaving behind him the big sky, the whisper of wind voices in the wind-bent wheat.
from In Cold Blood
Here is what I had written him: Hello pop hope you are well I am and I am lurning to pedal my plain so fast I will soon be in the sky so keep your eyes open and yes I love you Buddy.
from One Christmas
She beckoned to him, shining and silver, and he knew he must go: unafraid, not hesitating, he paused only at the garden’s edge where, as though he’d forgotten something, he stopped and looked back at the bloomless, descending blue, at the boy he had left behind.
We watched until he turned a bend at the corner, innocent of the menace he carried, the chrysanthemums that burned, that growled and roared against a greenly lowering dusk.