Mama Was Crying, And The Rain Made

I Have Learned Over The Course Of My Many Years That It Is A Bad Idea, Usually, To Investigate Piteous Weeping But Always A Fine Thing To Look Into A Giggle.

He Was Free To Enjoy The Breathless Glee That Overwhelmed Him: The Speed, The Clear Cold Air, The Total Silence, The Feeling Of Balance And Excitement And Peace.

Once She Read A Book But Found It Distasteful Because It Contained Adjectives.

Always In The Dream, It Seemed As If There Were A Destination: A Something--he Could Not Grasp What-that Lay Beyond The Place Where The Thickness Of Snow Brought The Sled To A Stop. He Was Left, Upon Awakening, With The Feeling That He Wanted, Even Somehow Needed, To Reach The Something That Waited In The Distance. The Feeling That It Was Good. That It Was Welcoming. That It Was Significant. But He Did Not Know How To Get There.

He Wept Because He Was Afraid Now That He Could Not Save Gabriel. He No Longer Cared About Himself