All We Need To Do,

Outside The Leaves On The Trees Constricted Slightly; They Were The Deep Done Green Of The Beginning Of Autumn. It Was A Sunday In September. There Would Only Be Four. The Clouds Were High And The Swallows Would Be Here For Another Month Or So Before They Left For The South Before They Returned Again Next Summer.

All We Are Is Eyes Looking For The Unbroken Or The Edges Where The Broken Bits Might Fit Each Other.

We All Know Our Dates Of Birth But . . . Every Year There Is Another Date That We Pass Over Without Knowing What It Is But It Is Just As Important It Is The Other Date The Death Date.

A Good Argument, Like A Good Dialogue, Is Always A Proof Of Life, But I'd Much Rather Go And Read A Book.

Google Is So Strange. It Promises Everything, But Everything Isn’t There. You Type In The Words For What You Need, And What You Need Becomes Superfluous In An Instant, Shadowed Instantaneously By The Things You Really Need, And None Of Them Answerable By Google.