A Conversation
We have a six dollar
fan on our front porch. It
doesn’t say much, just
turns its head from left
to right, scanning the summer
evening. Have you ever seen
a thing so stoic? Has
bravery ever been defined so well?
Not since the flag in our
garden, who weathered hail
and rain without complaint, was
crushed by a suicidal tree branch.
I asked the fan if he heard
the flag cry out in pain,
or whimper with a ripple in
fear. He just shakes his
head left, then right, then
left again. I believe him. If
he’d heard, surely he would
have packed it all in and left.
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