On the river whose far bank is unknowablethere's a boat with your name on it.The water birds stand on one leg and shiver their wings.The blank-eyed fish kiss the tide's underbelly.The horses lower their muzzles to drink.Nothing lasts, not horses or mothers.Meanwhile, the wind runs across the fields, the wind runs across the fields.- from Not Horses, or Mothers by Lisa JacobsonLoss of a parent, a child, a job, a house, a pet and much more. Over...
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