gevurah shebmalkhut
Ohio. I hear noise, watch the rest of the toads jump into the water along the neighborhood road, all except for one, who stays on the bank. I want to stay, too, but the dog pulls us on. You could have stayed, God says.
On the next loop, I sit on the asphalt as the five of us talk, look up at the couple who left still-warm homemade pizza in aluminum foil in the garage for us last night. Nothing, everything, remains to be known, don’t you think?
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