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26 July 2006 @ 01:28 pm
A Child of Air  
My English professor has a very Thoreau-esque quality about him, which I love.

"When Christmastime drew near, suitcases and satchels pile at our door when family arrive, evening around the fire, heavy snow outside, my father calling out, don’t just sit there and stare at the dying flames, get more wood, and so I did, and so I have.

Now half my day passes with strangers, and I take long walks in my mind through the forest of my youth where creatures quicken at my approach and vanish in the brush, and it seems time passes handlessly from my mind to my body and the trees are darkening.

I’m no longer young but my heart leans toward childhood until I cease to exist. I’m truly not a child of this earth, but a child of air, the way I pass over reeds, through trees, creaking and hissing, and not all the ways home are lost, looking up, I find the trail again in the sky, my footing sure in the last light climbing through the canopy of poplars and ash."

--S. M. Brown